Ronald Weasley and the Very Friendly Horcrux
by The QAS
Summary: After a fight with his friends, an indignant Ron Weasley abandons his search for horcruxes and storms off into the forest whereupon he comes into contact with a very strange muggle boy in a suit of armor . . . "Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain."
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, Everybody! This story idea has been in my head for a while, so I'm finally glad to start posting chapters. Unlike my other FMA fic, this one is set in the Brotherhood universe, though the idea that the Gate can lead to separate worlds still applies.**

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Devon, Southwest England: October 13, 1997

"Some friends I have!" Ron Weasley grumbled as he made his way through the forest.

The rain was coming down hard. It caused his bangs to cling to his forehead, blocking his vision. Ron had given up pushing them out of the way at this point, knowing that within a few seconds he'd have to do the same thing over again.

"So, Ronald," the teenager muttered, "What are you going to do now? Can't exactly apparate in this condition and the closest settlements are miles away. Damn it, why didn't you think this out further?"

It took a few more minutes of talking to himself before he reached a conclusion: he was spending the night in the rainy woods. With some wandwork at least he was able to make a makeshift shelter that actually didn't collapse on the third try. Sighing and gripping his aching arm, Ron took refuge underneath his little canopy.

What _was _he going to do now? There was no way he could return to his friends after his outburst, even if he was sorry—which he wasn't because he had simply stated what he and Hermione had been thinking to themselves the entire time. Ron didn't regret his actions, not in the least. Was it his fault that he was a bit disappointed by their complete and total lack of progress? That the only thing they had even remotely resembling a plan was to collect horcruxes? That they were just chasing one dead end after another? It was useless. Why couldn't the others see that? He supposed he could seek refuge at Bill and Fleur's house in Tinworth. Ron wasn't really in the mood to go back to the Burrow and face his family. He'd think more about it in the morning.

Ron paused his mental rant when he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him.

"Lumos," he whispered, pointing his wand at the brush. "Who's there? Harry? Hermione? You better not have followed me. I said I wanted to be alone!" There was no response. Ron's heart rate began to accelerate. "Who are you?" he shouted again in his most threatening voice. "I-I'm warning you! Stay away!" To the readhead's surprise, the rustling ceased and the woods were silent once again.

The night was long and, much to Ron's annoyance, the rain stubbornly refused to light up. He didn't so much sleep as he did slip in and out of consciousness. Still, he refused to turn back. He had a made a decision and he was going to stick with it. The irony of that statement was not lost on him.

The bushes would rustle periodically from what Ron assumed was some animal scurrying around. Damn, he was starting to get really hungry. Maybe he could hunt down whatever it was and make some dinner. No…no that wouldn't work. His wand work wasn't precise enough to catch anything so small and quick, and there was no way he could hunt with just one hand. Besides, he couldn't really see himself cooking up some hare's body to eat, no matter how starving he was.

Sighing, he reached into his bag. There were a few stale cauldron cakes at the bottom, which Ron supposed was better than nothing. Trying not to grimace, he bit into the hard pastry and chewed. Ugh. The thing tasted older than his Aunt Muriel. Who knew how long it had been lying there. Ron gagged and coughed.

A little gasp came from the bushes. "Are you okay?" It was the voice of a small child.

Ron stood up, drawing his wand. "Who said that? Where are you hiding?"

"Over here. Put the stick down, I'll come out." _Stick? _Ron raised an eyebrow, but lowered his wand. "Please don't be scared."

Why would he be—WHAT THE HELL?! A giant suit of armor stepped out from behind a tree. It had been so dark that Ron had assumed the figure was just part of the trunk. The thing was enormous! Not quite Hagrid's height, but still a good seven feet at least.

Ron was unable to hide the high-pitched shriek that escaped from his mouth.

The armor giggled. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you. I just saw you coughing and thought…"

"How long have you been watching me?"

"A while," the armored man sounded embarrassed. "How did you make the fort? I've never seen alchemy like that before." _Alchemy?_ The word sounded vaguely familiar to Ron, like something he should have been paying attention to in a lesson.

"Anyway, I'm Alphonse Elric. What's your name?"

Ron supposed it was possible that the armored boy was employed by You-Know-Who. Merlin, how young were the Death Eaters recruiting kids these day? The boy didn't sound older than twelve, though his height certainly implied otherwise. And where was his wand? Ron looked over the figure to make sure that he hadn't missed it before but it seemed that the armor held no weapons on his body at all. What kind of idiot would forget his…? Then it made sense: the boy was a muggle. That would explain why he didn't recognize what Ron was doing before.

"What's your name?" Alphonse repeated.

In a rare moment of caution, Ron decided not to use his real name. Even if he wasn't with You-Know-Who, he would be in real danger if the Death Eaters knew he'd been hanging out with a Ron Weasley. "My name is Jack…Jackson." Damn his lack of creativity!

The armored boy seemed unperturbed. "Oh. Nice to meet you, Jack!" the enthusiasm in the child's voice was almost contagious, though it died down significantly with the next sentence. "Um…could you by any chance tell me where we are?"

What a weird question. "We're in Devon. Near Cornwall, I think."

"And where is that in relation to Central?" Ron thought he detected a hint of nervousness in Alphonse's voice.

"Central what?" Ron asked dumbly. "We're in the Southwest of the country."

"…So we're near Creta and Aerugo?"

Ron shook his head. It was like the boy was speaking a different language entirely. Was he using muggle terms that he was unfamiliar with? The redhead shrugged. "Sorry, mate. I've never heard of either of those places before."

"Oh." The armor seemed to slouch in disappointment. "That's so strange. The last thing I remember, I was…oh no. Briggs! The snowstorm! I have to warn the others!"

"Riiight." Ron was beyond lost at this point. "Um, Alphonse, how old are you exactly?"

"Fourteen. Why?"

"Damn, you're tall. Never mind. You said fourteen? Where are your parents, then?"

There was a long pause before Alphonse answered. "My mom is dead. My dad left us when I was little."

Oops. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. Alphonse nodded in acknowledgment and Ron awkwardly continued. "Who do you live with, then?"

"My brother, Ed. He's a year older than me."

Was this standard practice for muggles? To leave children in charge of other children if their parents were killed? That sounded like a terrible idea. Ron couldn't imagine ever becoming Ginny's guardian. Actually, he _could _imagine it in several different scenarios. All of them ended in explosions.

"'Ey you!" someone called out in a strong cockney accent. A figure with long, straggly hair stepped out of the bushes. His robes were probably once glamorous, but now they looked so worn that Ron doubted that even his mum's best hand-me-down laundry charms would have much of an effect. "Yeah, you, with the red hair. Drop yer wand. Same goes for you, Mr. Armor."

Alphonse let out a little squeak of surprise. "But…but I don't have a…"

"Not cooperatin', eh? Well, boys, I fink we're gonna havta teach these blokes a lesson." Two more men stepped out from the bushes.

"Who are they?" Alphonse whispered.

"Snatchers."

Ron was beginning to panic. He was confident that even with his arm in a sling, he could fight off one snatcher. But three? There was no way in hell he could take them all down.

Ron turned to Alphonse. The poor kid didn't even have a wand to defend himself and he imagined that it couldn't be very easy to make quick movements while stuck in that suit. Ron was basically screwed, but Alphonse had no chance. Besides, if the snatcher got him, there was a possibility—however slim—that he could talk his way into freedom. Alphonse, on the other hand…Ron didn't even want to think about what they would do to the kid. He made a split second decision right there and then.

"Run away," Ron hissed. "I'll deal with them."

"But—"

"Just go." Ron charged the snatchers.

Jets of light flew in all directions. Ron was still a good three yards away from them when a stupefy spell knocked him off his feet. This was followed by a sharp expelliarmus that left him wandless. The snatchers surrounded him. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Since Ron was now unarmed, they no longer saw him as an immediate threat and were able to take their sweet time closing in. Their leader reached him first and decided to amuse himself by twisting Ron's injured arm out of its sling. The others soon joined in and took turns twisting it until a distinct popping sound was heard. Ron screamed.

The next few seconds were a blur. And then suddenly, the three fiends were running away in terror while Alphonse helped Ron to his feet. Why had he come back? And more importantly, did that kid just scare off three snatchers without so much as a wand? Ron wasn't sure if he was more impressed or humiliated by the boy's actions.

"Is this yours?" Alphonse handed Ron the stick of cherry wood. He accepted without comment, still feeling pretty shaken up. That had been close. _Too_ close. With his arm in its stupid sling, Ron was basically helpless. Maybe he shouldn't have left the others so quickly…

Alphonse, meanwhile, was hovering over him like an overprotective parent. "How's your arm?" the boy asked.

Ron grunted, unable to conjure the energy to speak.

Picking up on this, Alphonse led him over to a tree to lean against. A few seconds later, Ron was nearly unconscious.

He was pulled out of his stupor when Alphonse spoke. "Um…Mr. Jackson?"

Who? Oh yeah. That was him. "Mmm?"

"I don't want to bother you or anything, but…" Alphonse shifted the weight on his feet. "When you're feeling up to it, would you mind taking me to the nearest phone line? Or even just the edge of town. I…I can probably find a phone line on my own."

"Phone? You mean, like, a telephone?"

Ron got the feeling that Alphonse was giving in him a _well, duh_ look under his helmet.

"I guess," he agreed. "Once I'm rested up and stuff. But the closest town's at least four miles away. Will you be able to drag that armor with you the whole way?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." Ron thought he detected a hint of bitterness in the boy's voice. Oh well, not his problem. When morning came, he'd be able to return Alphonse to wherever he came from and then he'd be his brother's (what was his name? Ned?) responsibility.

Now he just had to make it through the night without screwing things up.

"Hey, Jack," Alphonse asked. "What was it you and those people were doing before? You know, with the sticks they called wands."

Damn it.

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**A bit of a slow beginning, but I promise it gets better. **

**Reviews are always welcome. I would love to know what people think of this.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hurray, another chapter! This one contains a lot of dialogue, but I promise that more action will come soon. Thank you to everybody who reviewed, favorited, followed, and even just read. I'm glad that I've been getting such positive feedback for this. Individual reviewers will be addressed at the author's note at the bottom. Oh, and in case it wasn't obvious, I don't own _Harry Potter_ or_ Fullmetal Alchemist. _**

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_Okay. Think, Ron. Think. _Obliviation was an option, but what if the snatchers came back? Who knew how many times he would have to explain the situation to the kid before erasing it from his memory. Ron figured it would make more sense to tell Alphonse the truth for the time being and cast obliviate once they reached the closest settlement.

"Okay," Ron took a deep breath. "This is going to sound barking mad, but what you saw back there was magic."

"Magic?"

"Yeah."

To the readhead's surprise, Alphonse began to laugh. Ron thought he heard an odd echoing sound come from the armored boy's chest, but he shrugged it off. "Okay," Alphonse said once the laughter had been reduced to a couple of stray giggles. "What was it,_ really_?"

"I told you," Ron said, a bit irritated, "it's magic. Witches. Wizards. Spells. Potions. They're all real. How else can you explain what you saw?"

Alphonse stopped laughing. "Just because I can't explain it doesn't mean it's supernatural."

Ron kicked the dirt. He was growing tired of this conversation. "And why the bloody hell not?"

Alphonse spoke slowly, but not in a condescending way. "I'm a scientist. I practice alchemy. My job is to learn how the world works. After all, understanding composition is the first step to a successful transmutation. If I just passed off everything I didn't understand as magic, I wouldn't be doing my job very well."

Despite his father's rather obsessive fixation over it, Ron didn't know much about muggle science and he was finding Alphonse's lecture hard to follow. "Transmutation, what's that? Something you use with electricity?"

Now it was Alphonse's turn to be confused. "Umm…no. We don't use electricity in alchemy. We harvest energy from the Earth's core. Here, watch." The armored boy picked up a small twig from the ground and began drawing a circle in the dirt with a bunch of strange lines and shapes inside of the outline. "See? The transmutation circle acts as a matrix so I can summon the energy."

"I understand," said Ron, not understanding at all.

"Just look." Alphonse touched the circle with his hands. Nothing happened.

Ron looked around in confusion. "Did I miss something?"

"I…I don't get it. How…?" Alphonse tried to draw another circle. Again, nothing happened.

Ron clapped sarcastically. "Great job, Alphonse!" he exclaimed. "I will never doubt your integrity again."

"This can't be happening…" Alphonse got started on a third circle, then a forth and Ron caught a slight tremor in the boy's hand. The unresponsiveness of the line drawings was clearly causing Alphonse some serious distress.

"Uh…calm down there, mate." Ron didn't want to see the kind of destruction the armor could cause when he was agitated.

The armored boy didn't seem to be listening anymore. "Maybe it's like before when Brother and I couldn't transmute," Alphonse mused. "Oh, we should have learned alkahestry when we had the chance. If anything happens to them it'll be all my fault…"

Alphonse was starting to lose it. That much was obvious. Taking a deep breath, Ron pulled out his wand and expelled the stick from Alphonse's hand. The armored boy shifted his gaze upward and fixed his glowing red eyes on him. A chill went down Ron's spine and he awkwardly held up his hands as a sign of peace.

"Why did you do that?" Alphonse whined. "I need to figure something out before it's too late!"

"I don't want any trouble," said Ron slowly. "It just looked like whatever you were doing wasn't very productive. And quite frankly…I think I'll go mental if I see you make another one of those bloody things."

To his surprise, the boy didn't get angry. Instead, he let out a sigh. "I guess you're right, Mr. Jackson. If it isn't working now, there's no reason to think that doing the same thing again will produce a different result. I'm a scientist, I should know that better than anybody."

"Why do you need to get that circle working so badly anyway?"

Alphonse twiddled his thumbs nervously. "It's hard to explain, but I need to get back where I was as quickly as possible. My…my friends are in danger. If there's a town near by, I think we should starting heading towards it."

Ron nodded. This sounded like a plan to him. The sooner he got this kid to a town, the sooner he could get rid of him. "Fine by me. Let's go." He started walking. "There's a road not far from here. Let's try to stay on the side of that. If we follow it long enough, we're bound to find a town or something at some point." He pulled his wand out and cleared a path by blasting away low tree branches.

"Uh…right!" Alphonse scrambled after him, causing the metal suit to clank loudly.

"Why do you wear that thing, anyway?" asked Ron.

"What? Oh, this thing?" Alphonse's voice seemed even higher than usual. "Oh, it's…it's a…uh, a hobby! Hahaha!"

The boy was covering something up. Ron had certainly performed the action enough times in his life to recognize it when he saw it. Ron had just been trying to make conversation; it wasn't like he was _that_ interested, after all. But now that he knew Alphonse was hiding something, the Gryffindor couldn't help but feel his curiosity spike. He'd definitely have to ask him more about it later.

Though it wasn't like Alphonse couldn't find other topics to rant about. Ron soon discovered the kid was quite capable of doing the talking for two.

"Hey, do you hear that? I think a bird is singing. I love listening to bird songs. Back in Resembool—that's where I grew up. It's a rural town southeast of Central—Brother and I would sometimes go for walks and try to tell the birds apart by their songs. Where did you say this place was again? Devon, right? It must be far if you've never heard of Central! Are we in Drachma? No. That's not possible. I was near Drachma before and there was an enormous blizzard—AHH!" _HONK! _Alphonse jumped out of the way of a speeding car. He spun around, disoriented.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking, go that far into the road? Do you have a death wish because that fancy suit of yours won't do much good against one of those things!"

"What…what _was_ that?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "That was a _car_. Ever heard of one?"

"Of course I've heard of them," Alphonse replied, sounding a little offended. "It's just…I've never seen one go so fast. And…and the ones we have back at home are usually black. This one looked completely different. Is it, like, a new model or something?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Dad's the one into all the muggle stuff, not me. Let's go."

"What's a muggle?"

"Uh…it's what you are." Ron tried to think of a way to phrase the definition without somehow sounding offensive or condescending. It never occurred to him how awkward it was to actually explain to a muggle. "It's a person who can't use magic."

"Can you tell me more about magic, Mr. Jackson?"

"Shh! Not so loud. Do you want them to hear us all the way in Lincolnshire?"

"Sorry," Alphonse said in a much quieter voice. "Can you tell me more about magic? I'm really curious."

"Sure." _I'm going to obliviate him anyway, so it can't do any harm. _"Well, when wizards turn eleven they get sent off to school—at least they're eleven in the UK, I'm not so sure about other places. Hermione might—uh…never mind. Anyway, the school I go—sorry, _went_—to is called Hogwarts, though I hear it's a bloody mess right now with You-Know-Who in power."

"Sorry, I don't know who."

"What? How could you not—oh right. You're a muggle. My bad. Well, you see, there was this guy named…uh...well, I shouldn't say his name. They probably have wards on it now or something. Anyway, he was a really bad guy who wanted to kill all of the muggles and wizards born from muggles and he got this group of followers called—"

"Wait, is magic genetic, then? If muggles can have wizard children, can wizards have muggle children?"

"Yeah. I don't there are many of them out there, but they're called squibs and nobody really likes them all that much. Anyway, like I was saying, this guy, the Dark Lord, had a bunch of followers and—"

"Why don't people like squibs?"

Ron paused. He hadn't really given it much thought before. Squibs were just kind of annoying. He suspected it must have been hard on parents to learn that their child would never go on to be the amazing wizard that they hoped he would be. They probably fed off of that disappointment and grew bitter. "They're usually jealous of wizards and that turns them into grumpy old gits with cats and—"

"I like cats," Alphonse announced.

"Bloody hell! Can I finish my sentence, please? Thank you. Anyway, the Dark Lord had a number of people following him. Called themselves Death Eaters—"

"They can't actually eat death though, right? That's just what they're called. I mean—oh, sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt. Keep going."

Damn, this kid asked a lot of questions. "No, they didn't _eat _death, they _caused _it. Real nasty bunch. So, one day, their leader heard of this prophecy that this kid was going to grow up and maybe destroy him. The kid was only a year old at the time, so he figured that he'd be pretty easy to take out, I guess. So he went over to the kid's house and killed his parents and then tried to kill the baby—" Alphonse let out a little gasp of horror, but he didn't interrupt. Ron was grateful for that. "And he couldn't. Instead, the spell he used ended up backfiring and killing him. Or, at least that's what we thought at the time. A couple years back, he returned and—"

"Wait, he RETURNED? As in, came back from the dead?"

Ron shot Alphonse a look, but the boy didn't apologize for speaking out this time. "The circumstances were strange. My fr—uh, Harry Potter—the baby he tried to kill, though he's not a baby anymore—was there when it happened."

Alphonse raised his hand as an indication that he wanted Ron to stop speaking. "Sorry," he said. "It's just a lot to wrap my head around. Are you sure it was really him who came back and not…not something else?"

"Ugh. Now you're starting to sound like the Ministry. Yes, I'm positive it was him."

"So it's possible, then," the boy seemed to be speaking to himself. "I don't understand…our equations…they all added up. If it really is possible, Brother and I should have…but then…this Dark Lord guy must have had to pay a heavy price."

"I guess," Ron shrugged. "He used some sort of potion."

"This is going to sound strange," said Alphonse, "but do you know if there was something called a Philosopher's Stone involved in the process?"

Ron stopped dead in his tracks. His trainers squeaked loudly on the asphalt as he spun around to face him. "How do you know about that? You're a muggle! You're not supposed to know about that!"

"I'm not? Well, I know I'm not supposed to know how it's _made_…"

"I guess it doesn't really matter, though. The thing was destroyed like six years ago."

Now it was Alphonse's turn to come to a halt. "D-destroyed? How could anyone…? But all of those lives…how could they just be wasted?"

Ron blinked. "Are you all right there, Mate?"

"Y-yeah. I'm fine."

More lying. There was definitely something big that this kid was hiding and whatever it was seemed to be really troubling him. Ron was going to try and see what information he could extract. Maybe the boy knew something useful that could help defeat Voldemort. It was a far cry, sure, but certainly better than nothing.

"Let's change the subject," the redhead suggested. "I'll tell you more about the wizard world, okay?"

Alphonse seemed reluctant, probably wanting to talk more about the Philosopher's Stone and Voldemort's resurrection, but Ron decided it was his turn to do the asking.

"We go to school until we're eighteen. I think muggles go even longer, don't they?"

Alphonse shrugged. "Some do."

"Well, why aren't you in school, then?"

"I finished my education a while ago. I think the schools you're thinking of are the kind that we have in cities. I grew up in a rural area, so I didn't really have an organized education. Our Mom taught us to read and write and then Brother and I did some work on our own. Typically in the countryside children take up apprenticeship in their early teens, though Brother and I got ourselves a teacher when we were even younger. And then sometimes people will travel to cities for a university education if they want to."

Great. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Hermione was better at obtaining useful facts. Even Harry had more experience than him. Ron thought back into the rare accessed analytical part of his mind and tried to think of something to say.

Ron wished he would have spoken sooner, because Alphonse apparently took his silence as an invitation to redirect the conversation. "I have a question."

Ron glowered. "…Do you now?"

"Yeah. What do wizards do after school? Is there a branch of them working for the government? Because in Amestris, the state employs alchemists in the military. My brother's one: Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist." Alphonse's voice was filled with pride and Ron instinctively scowled.

There was nothing so great about a sibling working for the government. Ron spoke from experience. Then something occurred to him. "But isn't your brother, like, fifteen?"

"Sixteen, actually. He joined when he was twelve."

"What?! What kind of idiotic country do you live in that lets children join the military?"

"Brother was kind of an exception. Besides, his work was mostly research and I was always there to help."

"You're in the military, too?"

"Um…no."

"So you decided to do research _willingly_? No offense, Alphonse—"

"You can call me Al."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "No offense, _Al_, but you grew up in a pretty messed up place."

Al chuckled quietly. "Trust me, I know."

"And to answer your question, no. we don't work with the muggle government. In fact, they don't know we exist. Wizards have their own government, the Ministry of Magic, though it's kind of gone to hell now."

"The muggles don't even know about you? But…but then how can you help them? 'Alchemist be thou for the people,' that's our motto."

Ron scowled. "Yeah, well it isn't ours, so I suggest you shut your trap. There's a reason we don't tell them, you know. It's because they'll all end up asking a bunch of annoying questions like you! Besides, you know how demanding people are. Once they find out about magic, they'll want us to fix their machines and cure their sick and…and stuff. And they'd go mad if we told them. Barking mad! All your scientist friends would probably round us up for experiments and whatnot." He was aware that his answer did not sound very convincing, but it was the best he could come up with off the top of his head.

He expected Alphonse to start shouting and the injustice in his words, but instead the boy spoke in a quiet voice that was barely above a whisper. "Isn't your Dark Lord person trying to kill them? Don't they have a right to know if they're in danger?"

"They'd…they'd panic." His answers were growing more and more pathetic.

"Why does that matter?" Al paused. "If muggles aren't supposed to know about your world, then why did you tell me?"

"Yeah…about that…um…" He looked off to the side of the road. They were just outside of Princetown. Ron reached into his pocket and drew his wand. "I'm sorry 'bout this, Al. I really am…"

"Hey! What are you—"

"_Obliviate!"_

There was a flash of light and the armored boy looked around in confusion before turning back to face Ron. "What was something supposed to happen?"

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**Now, to my lovely reviewers: **

**Brick: Ed may or may not show up later. For now it's just Al.**

**Breyannia: Good call on the obliviation. I didn't think that anyone would see that coming. I'm impressed. As for your other questions, they will be addressed in later chapters.**

**Sincerely The Sign Painter: Thank you.**

**Legendarily Quiet: Another good catch from a reviewer. I actually didn't know whether I was going to give him alchemy or not for a while. **

**krilavti: It's while he's unconscious. Something went wrong when he reached the Gate.**

**Dana Sto Helit: Thanks.**

** : I agree, Alphonse doesn't get enough spotlight. Not that Ed isn't also awesome! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: This chapter contains an excerpt from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.**

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Well this was awkward.

"What was…wait a minute! You were trying to use magic on me, weren't you?" Alphonse took a threatening step towards him.

"N-no I wasn't! Honest!" He held his hands up defensively took a step backwards. Al pushed him back further with another step. Ron tripped over a tree root and stumbled back. "Okay. Fine. Maybe I tried to use a _little _magic. But I wasn't going to hurt you or anything. I only wanted to erase your memories."

Alphonse stopped advancing. "_Only_ erase my memories? What do you mean 'only'? That's not the kind of thing you say only about!"

Crap. This wasn't going well at all. "Look, you have to understand. It wouldn't have been_ all_ your memories. I just wanted—"

"No, I _do_ understand." It sounded like Alphonse was crying underneath his armor. Fantastic! Now Ron felt guilty. But what for? He hadn't done anything wrong. "You wizards keep your world clean and isolated by erasing the memories of any muggles who see you doing magic. In other words, you don't take responsibility for your own actions because you think that a wave of your wand will fix everything!"

Ron gritted his teeth and tried to speak calmly. He knew, at least intellectually, that Alphonse had a right to be upset, but Ron knew he couldn't let the muggle get away. Not with the information he now held. Swallowing his pride, Ron tried to grovel. "Sorry. I won't try it again. This sort of thing has never happened before. Let me help you find your way home and—"

There was a brief moment where Ron thought the muggle would take him up on his offer. He should have known he wouldn't be so lucky. "No thanks," Al whispered after a long pause. At least he didn't sound angry anymore. That was _something_. "I don't really want your help right now. Please try to understand. I think I'll just find a phone and call Central Headquarters." He put his hands together and gave Ron a little bow of acknowledgement. "Thank you for everything you've done. I…I guess I'll be going now." He started walking towards the Princetown sign when he suddenly stopped and turned around, as if to add an afterthought. "Maybe once Brother and I clear things up in Amestris, we can help you guys fight this Dark Lord person. I hope you stop him, I really do." Alphonse turned around again; this time he did not look back.

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Something seemed…off about Princetown, Al decided. On the surface it seemed like a pretty normal village. Children were running around, adults were rushing off to work, but the more Alphonse observed the place, the more he was convinced that something was wrong. There were too many cars, for one thing. It seemed that everybody was driving somewhere. The buildings seemed too large to belong to a town and the place seemed almost as big as Central.

If he hadn't been in such a rush, Al would have loved to stop and admire the architecture. One building in particular caught his eye. It was large and made of stone with an enormous tower in the front. What confused Alphonse was the scattering of headstones around the building. The building's sign read_ Church of St. Michael._

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said a man, coming up from behind.

Al couldn't help but agree. "Yeah. I've always liked looking at churches. Which god does this one belong to?"

The man gave him a strange look and then started to laugh. "You're funny, lad. It's been a while since I've had myself a good laugh."

Confused, Alphonse decided to accept the complement anyway. "Um…thank you." Then he remembered why he was in the town in the first place. "Do you know where I could use a phone?"

"Of course. Follow me."

The man led Alphonse to payphone at the end of a sidewalk. Al thanked the him with a customary bow (which made the man chuckle again for some reason) and then proceeded to awkwardly stuff his armored body into the telephone booth. Luckily he still had some spare cenz on him. Only…the phone didn't accept his money.

That was when Alphonse began to really panic. "Oh no…" He tried again with a different coin and was given the same result. This wasn't good.

"Hey, circus freak! You need some money?"

It took Alphonse a moment to realize that the speaker was referring to him. Al turned around and saw the boy around his brother's age. "Yes, please. This phone doesn't seem to accept my currency."

The boy grinned. Alphonse noticed that his teeth seemed to be held together by a wire and several metal studs. How odd. But before he could ask the child about it, the boy chucked a rock in his direction and blew him a raspberry. Al instinctively cringed when he heard the hollow cling of his armor as it collided with the pebble. Even after so many years in his pseudobody, the thought that nothing was inside of him was still frightening.

Al turned to ask the boy why he had done such a rude thing, but the kid had already run off in another direction.

Luckily an elderly onlooker seemed sympathetic to his plight and approached the phone booth. "Sorry about that, Dear," she said kindly. "My grandson can be quite the rascal sometimes. Were you trying to place a call?"

"Yes. But I'm not from around here and my money doesn't seem to do any good."

The woman nodded understandingly and reached into her purse. "I understand. Here, take this. It should be enough to cover a long distance call."

"Thank you very much, ma'am." He held out the cenz as payment, but the woman shook her head.

"That's quite all right, Dear. Consider it payment for my grandson's behavior."

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I couldn't! That wouldn't be an equivalent exchange." He tried a few more times to give her the money, but she refused every time. Eventually, Alphonse sighed in defeat and slid the coins into the slot. He reached to dial…and stopped.

This phone was nothing like he had ever seen before. Instead of a dial, it had buttons. Al vaguely remembered Sergeant Fuery mentioning something about work on new phone technology to make the calling process quicker, but he had no idea that the updated versions were already available for public use.

It wasn't difficult to figure out how to use the buttons, and Alphonse let out a sigh of relief when he heard the familiar ringing sound on the other end.

"Dursley Residence. Vernon speaking. Who's this?" the voice on the other end sounded irritated.

_Must be a new receptionist,_ Al figured. "Hi, Mr. Vernon. My name is Alphonse Elric. Is Colonel Mustang in?"

There was a snort on the other end. "Colonel? Is this supposed to be some sort of joke? Because, let me tell you, I am not in the mood for jokes."

"Sorry. This isn't Central Headquarters, is it? Do you know the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

The voice began shouting and Alphonse had to hold the receiver a distance away to comprehend the words. "ARE YOU DEAF, BOY? I ALREADY TOLD YOU THIS WAS THE DURSLEY RESIDENCE!" the shouting stopped and Alphonse wondered if he had been cut off. He was about to hang up when he realized that there was whispering on the other end. Al quickly moved the phone closer so that he could hear. "…from the boy's people, are you? He's gone, I swear. We have nothing to do with him anymore. He's gone, out of our lives, and I want nothing to you with you people. Now leave us in peace. Don't touch me or my family."

"Hey, what—" but the line went dead.

"THERE you are!"

Alphonse turned around. Jack Jackson was bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. _He must have run after me,_ he realized.

Al exited the phone booth and waiting for the readhead to catch his breath. "Why did you follow me?"

"I can't exactly leave you alone now that you know about our world, now can I?"

"I won't tell anybody about you guys, I just want…" his voice trailed off. "No!" the armor squeaked. "No, it can't be!" He felt his nonexistent stomach drop in horror.

"What? What is it?"

Unable to speak, Al pointed to the newspaper dispenser. Ron walked over and looked at it, unimpressed. "So what?"

"Look at the date."

He did. "What about it?"

"It says October 14, _1997_. That can't be right. It _can't_ be."

A shadow of concern passed over Ron's face as he seemed to realize that this was making Alphonse more nervous than he had ever seen him. "Why?"

"Because a few hours ago, it was 1915."

Alphonse gave the other boy a couple of seconds to let the news sink in.

It was then Ron recalled a conversation he had with Padma Patil during the Yule Ball. The Ravenclaw had mentioned something about a mystical force muggles believed in called karma or korma or something that caused good things to happen to people who did good and bad things to happen to people who didn't. At the time Ron had just dismissed it as hogwash, but now he was starting to think that this Alphonse kid was his korma for abandoning his friends.

The boy must have been insane. There wasn't any other explanation, was there? Nobody could travel through time more than a few hours and he had never heard of someone going _forward_. Besides, hadn't all the time turners been destroyed?

But this boy's memories of his home were vivid. Maybe they had been tampered with. _Magically_. "Alphonse," he called. "I think we should go back to the forest. There's something I need to discuss with you. Please trust me."

To his relief, Alphonse nodded and agreed to follow. Ron wasn't sure why he cared so much about the boy's well-being. Maybe it was because he had saved him from the snatchers. Or maybe it was the fact that they were both wanderers without anyplace to go. Whatever the reason, though, Ron knew that he was going to have to get the boy some help.

If there was anyone who would know what to do, it would be Hermione. She would recognize any signs of obscure magic on him. Ron wondered briefly if they would still be mad at him, but he decided it was a risk he'd have to take. Besides, no matter how much they had it out against him, Ron knew that Harry and Hermione would never turn away somebody in need.

"While I'm coming clean, I might as well let you know that my name is really Ron Weasley."

Once they were back in the forest and away from muggle ears, Ron spoke up. "I'm going to take you to a friend of mine. She should be able to help and…and maybe get you back home." Ron felt bad about lying, but he didn't think that he could get Al to follow him any other way.

Understandably, the armored boy was skeptical. "How?"

Ron shrugged. "Hell if I know. She's the smart one, not me. Don't tell her I said that." He looked up and noticed that the rain was starting again. "Let's go."

He just hoped the campsite hadn't moved yet.

…And that Hermione wouldn't kill him before he could explain the situation.

* * *

When Harry woke the following day it was several seconds before he remembered what had happened. Then he hoped, childishly, that it had been a dream, that Ron was still there and had never left. Yet by turning his head on his pillow he could see Ron's deserted bunk. It was like a dead body in the way it seemed to draw his eyes. Harry jumped down from his own bed, keeping his eye averted from Ron's. Hermione, who was already busy in the kitchen, did not wish Harry a good morning, but turned her face away quickly as he went by.

_He's gone,_ Harry told himself. _He's gone._ He had to keep thinking it as he washed and dressed, as though the repetition would dull the shock of it. _He's gone and he's not coming back._ And that was the simple truth of it, Harry knew, because their protective enchantment meant that it would be impossible, once they vacated this spot, for Ron to find them again.

He and Hermione ate breakfast in silence. Hermione's eyes were puffy and red; she looked as if she had not slept. They packed up their things, Hermione dawdling. Harry knew why she wanted to spin out their time on the riverbank; several times he saw her look up eagerly, and he was sure that she had deluded herself into hearing footsteps through the heavy rain. Sometimes Harry imitated her and looked around, too. Neither of them expected to actually find anything. But sure enough, just as they were about to disapparate, Harry saw the familiar red-headed figure in the distance.

"He better be ready to apologize," Hermione whispered.

"Who's that with him?" wondered Harry. Had Ron been so afraid of their reaction that he'd brought protection? The idea was far fetched, but why else would there be a giant in a suit of armor walking beside him. Harry saw Ron talking to the armored man, but he couldn't hear what was saying, though it soon became obvious when the armored boy stayed behind as Ron approached him and Hermione.

He gave the two a curt nod, but refused to meet their eyes. "I need a favor," he said.

Maybe it was the horcrux around his neck, but Harry couldn't help but feel anger bubbling inside of him. "Oh? So suddenly we're not useless anymore?"

"You don't need to let me join you guys, but there's somebody I want Hermione to look at." He motioned to the armored man. "His name is Alphonse Elric. I met him in the woods last night and he and I managed to fight off a group of snatchers. He's a muggle, though, so I tried obliviating him afterwards, only…the spell had no effect on him."

Hermione gasped, her anger apparently forgotten. "Are you sure? Who is this man? Where did he come from?"

"I don't know. He's more boy than man, though. He says he's fourteen and I don't even think his voice has changed yet. He claims he's from a place called Amestris and is looking for his brother."

"Amestris?" Hermione frowned. "Never heard of it. It might be in Cornwall."

Harry suppressed a snort. A place Hermione had never heard of? Did such a thing even exist?

"But it's more than that. He keeps going on about alchemy and—"

"Hang on," said Harry. "Isn't that the stuff Nicolas Flamel practiced?"

Ron's eyes widened. "That would explain how he knew about the Philosopher's Stone."

"How does he know about that? Didn't you say he was a muggle?"

Hermione shook her head. "Some muggles have heard the legend. Are you sure he said he was fourteen? He seems a bit tall, don't you think? What does he look like under the armor?"

"I dunno. He never takes it off. Says it's a hobby."

She crossed her arms. "Well, that's suspicious, don't you think?"

Harry nodded. "Why did you bring him here, Ron? What if he's connected to the Death Eaters?"

"He's not," Ron's voice was firm. "At least not directly. I…I think somebody performed dark magic on him."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, for one, he's convinced the year is 1915."

"But that's…! Let me talk to him. Harry, back me up if you see anything suspicious." She began to march forward.

"Right!" Harry had keep his pace at a brisk jog to keep up with her. He turned to Ron. "Is he dangerous?"

Ron shook his head. "Not at all. He's actually—"

"Hi! I'm Alphonse. You must be Ron's friend Hermione. It's so nice to me you!"

"…Really friendly."

Alphonse looked up at the two approaching boys. Even though Ron claimed he wasn't dangerous, Harry took a nervous step backwards when he saw the helmet's glowing red eyes stare down at him.

There was a roaring sound overhead.

"What's that?" asked Alphonse, his voice filled with childish curiosity and absolute amazement.

Harry relaxed a bit. "That's an airplane."

Hermione seemed perplexed. "They had airplanes in 1915," she muttered, mostly to herself.

Once Alphonse had calmed down from the excitement of a vehicle that flew, the group rebuilt the campsite (Alphonse had watch in complete awe) and settled in. When Alphonse spoke again, his voice sounded much more serious.

"Hermione, Ron says that you need to examine me outside of the armor to check for dark magic. I don't think you'll find any, but I'm willing to comply because he says that you guys can be trusted. Just know that what you're about to see will be…kind of disturbing."

"We've probably seen worse," said Harry.

"Okay, then. Just try not to scream, okay?" Alphonse reached for his helmet and pulled upwards: it was empty.

* * *

**Ah, and the plot progresses!**

**As a note, please don't usually expect me to update so fast. I just decided to take advantage of the long weekend.**

**Sincerely The Sign Painter: It's a concept from the first anime. Basically, in our world (which is on the other side of the Gate) alchemy doesn't work. Knowing Alphonse, though, he's going to get past this barrier in all likelihood.**

**Vivianne_95: Haha, yep!**

**Harrys_woman: Don't worry, Ron, you do interesting stuff too (occasionally). **

**Guest: Good observation. True, they technically have the option to opt out of school at age 17 because they're legally adults, but typically the seventh years are eighteen when they finish school unless they have a really late birthday like Harry or Ginny. Besides, do you really think Mrs. Weasley would let her children know that dropping out of Hogwarts early was really an option?**

**Breyannia: Glad you like it so far. I'm sorry I couldn't answer your question in this chapter, but, as I'm sure you can see, it will addressed very soon.**

**Kale Of The Dragons: Thank you.**

**The_Awesome_Us: Aw, thanks! I'm really happy that you enjoy it. I also agree that characters with contrasting personalities are some of the most fun to read and write about. **

**krilavti: Yep. Alphonse is a sweetie.**

**xo._skyla: Thanks. I briefly considered just ending the chapter after the spell was cast, but then I decided that even I wasn't _that_ mean. Also, good observation on the alchemy.**

**Lady Cocoa: Correct. I always assumed that you needed to know what you were aiming at in order to successfully cast a spell. Some other ones will affect him, though.**

**So that's chapter three. What do you guys think? Are Harry and Hermione realistic? Is there anything in particular that anyone wants to see in the future? Please let me know.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hurray for updates!**

* * *

Alphonse's revelation was met by several screams. It wasn't the first time he'd received such a reaction. Still, Al had been hoping these kids would be different somehow. After all, if they believed in magic, how much of a stretch was a talking suit of armor?

"Please don't be scared. I know it's kind of strange, but—"

A bright light shot out of the girl—Hermione's—wand. Naturally, Alphonse assumed that her "spell" would not affect him, just as Ron's hadn't. In a sense he was right to think so, unfortunately the spell wasn't supposed to affect him, per say. Alphonse realized this too late when he saw a series of ropes (_what?!) _wrap themselves around him arms and legs. He dropped his helmet in shock and it toppled to the floor.

"How did you do that?" he asked in horror. "You…you can't _do _that!"

"What's he talking about?"

"The ropes…they came out of nowhere…how…? The mass, where did it come from? You can't create something from nothing, it's supposed impossible." How could they have just completely rewritten the law of Equivalent Exchange? Nobody could do that unless they had a…

"You're empty," Ron's voice seemed unsure of the words he was speaking. The redhead stepped forward glanced downward into the armor. He stuck his hand inside and waved it around, as if expecting to find an invisible person inside. "There's really nothing inside you," he said again, as if hoping that changing the words slightly would make the situation more believable.

"Ron, get away from him. It could be dangerous. Harry, you stand guard. Ron and I will unpack." Harry grunted.

"I'm not dangerous," Alphonse insisted.

Harry ignored him. Al tried to speak a few more times, but was only met with the same result. He wished he'd been paired with Ron or the girl.

Getting bored with his current situation, he began testing out the ropes to examine their strength and was pleasantly surprised to find that he could easily break through them.

"How the hell did you break through?" Harry, who seemed to have dozed off on his watch, was suddenly alert and terrified. Alphonse knew he could easily take the teen, but he didn't want to hurt anybody if he could avoid it. Al needed to the find the other two and explain his situation properly, but Harry was having none of it.

"HERMIONE, COME OUT HERE! THE THING…IT ESCAPED!"

The bushy-haired girl burst through one of the doors, wand drawn. Al then felt the distinct sensation of falling forward but for some reason he could not right himself. In fact, he couldn't move at all.

Harry looked just as surprised as Alphonse felt. "What did you cast?" he asked Hermione.

The bushy-haired girl spoke quickly, with a distinctly nervous edge to her tone. "_Agedimio_. It's basically_ petrificus totalus _for inanimate objects. It's the best I could do under the circumstances. I've never said it before, so I don't know how long it lasts."

"What do we do when it wears off?"

"We have to immobilize him. I can produce ropes, but he might be able to break through them. Err…give me a second; I think I have an idea." She furrowed her brow, as if deep in thought. "I've got it," she announced after a few seconds. Turning to Alphonse, the girl whispered, "_Memboro Ungula_."

With several distinct popping sounds, Alphonse's metal limbs were removed from their sockets. Alphonse couldn't really feel, so he couldn't exactly say it "hurt," but there was something undeniably uncomfortable about being broken apart. The shocked boy continued to watch in awe and horror as Hermione and her friends proceeded to scatter the pieces around the room and reinforce each joint with more freezing spells.

Finding his voice, Al tried to call out. "What…what are you doing?!"

The three teenagers jumped in alarm. With Ron's spell concentration ruined, one of his arms came clattering to the ground. The redhead frowned and recast his "wingardium leviosa."

"He can talk?" whispered Harry in awe.

"Makes sense. He doesn't really have vocal chords. His voice is coming from a different source altogether. Come on, help me move his arm—no, don't touch it. You don't know what kind of curses could be attached."

"Curses?" Alphonse repeated. What was happening? Why were these people taking him apart? "Ron," he tried to call out to the redhead. Weasley cringed at the sound of his name. "Ron, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I had no idea you'd react like…like _this_. Please, I promise I don't want to hurt anybody. I just need to get back home." He wished that he had waited for a more opportune time to break out of his bonds.

Ron's eyes refused to meet any part of the armor. "Sorry 'bout this, Al," he whispered. "We can't take any chances."

"Sorry?!" Harry practically shrieked. "You bring that…that _thing_ in here and you say you're sorry to _it_?!"

Alphonse felt like crying. Never before had he received such a terrible reaction. Had he known, he'd have never taken his helmet off in the first place.

And to make matters worse, Ron was being blamed for it. "Please don't be mad at Ron," his voice sounded shaky even though he lacked any physical components to make it waver. "He was just trying to help me. He had no idea I was…like this."

Harry huffed and folded his arms.

"Take the horcrux off," Hermione suggested. Her voice was shaking slightly. She sounded scared. "It's affecting your behavior."

"You know damn well that I have every right to be upset with this bastard," hissed the black-haired boy. He turned to address Alphonse. "Alright, Horcrux, we know what you are so you can drop the act."

"Horcrux?"

Ron made his way over to Hermione. "You know, I really don't think he's dangerous…"

"Horcruxes can be charming, Ronald. Remember the diary?"

Ron's face fell as he suppressed what looked like a disgusted shudder. Whatever Hermione had mentioned certainly had an effect on him because the redhead stopped protesting and simply settled for viewing Alphonse with a nervous gaze.

"What diary?" Al's voice grew more frantic when he realized that they were ignoring him. "I have no idea what you guys are talking about! Please put me back together. I'll leave you alone, I promise. _Please_! M-my brother needs me..."

"Brother?" Harry repeated.

"It might be an artificial memory," Hermione concluded, looking the armor over. "I don't know much about the process…did Dumbledore mention anything that might allude to this?"

Harry hesitated and Ron snorted. "Lovely. Just another little detail the old man omitted, I suppose?"

_No._ No, Alphonse was not going down that road again. His memories were definitely real. "It's not artificial! He's real and I need to get back to him. And my friends…they have no idea the Briggs has been taken over. I have to warn them."

Ron's eyes shined with pity, but the other two were unyielding.

This wasn't looking good for him. There had to be_ some_ way to persuade them, though. They were just kids, after all. They didn't seem like bad people. Alphonse refused to give up. He had to get to the others. He just _had_ to. Nobody else could make it through the snowstorm. "Tell me about these horcruxes. If I can help you guys in any way, I will. I at least have a right to know why you did this to me, don't I?"

"'Mione, I really don't think he's lying. We should at least_ try _to talk to him. He's not going anywhere, after all."

Hermione sighed. "I admit he sounds genuine. But think about this logically. If You-Know-Who wanted to create something difficult to destroy, what better way to do it than get us to sympathize with it? That being said, it doesn't really seem like his style…" She turned to Harry. "Is your scar bothering you?"

"It's _always _bothering me," he grumbled.

"I mean more than usual?"

"Not especially, no."

Ron grinned. "You see? Maybe there's a different reason he's like this. We don't know for sure that he's a—"

Harry stood up from his chair. "Are you actually defending it?!"

_It?_ Alphonse wondered. Did the boy really think that lowly of him?

"All I'm saying is that we haven't heard his side of the story yet. Give him a chance, will you? We have no way of really knowing that he's a horcrux." He turned to Al. "_Are_ you a horcrux?"

"That depends…what exactly a horcrux?"

The three looked at each other as if debating whether to confide in a potentially dangerous stranger. Eventually, Hermione stepped forward. "It's a soul magically bound to an inanimate object as a way to cheat death." The girl's eyes suddenly grew dark. "The binder, of course, has to pay a terrible price."

That sounded pretty accurate, actually. Almost uncannily accurate. Not in a position to lie, he decided to come clean. "I might be one," Al admitted. "But Brother didn't use magic. He used alchemy. I mean, there's no such thing as real magic. I'm guessing this Dark Lord you guys are fighting also made one?"

"We think he made seven." Harry shot Ron a look of annoyance, not at all thrilled with the other boy's eagerness to share information with the enemy.

"S-seven? How? What else could he possibly have to give?" Alphonse couldn't even imagine the kind of person who would need to bind seven souls. Perhaps it was a big accident and he needed to save several people. But then why would these three be fighting him? They seemed like pretty nice people, even if the black-haired boy didn't trust him. "I mean, I'm sure he had a reason…"

"See?" Harry threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "He's trying to justify murder!"

"Murder? No! I never said anything like that. I've never killed anybody before. Neither has Brother."

"I've had enough of this," growled Harry. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room."

Hermione, who looked like she might burst into tears at any moment, ran after him, telling Ron to watch Alphonse.

"Fantastic. I brought you here so that I would have to be the babysitter, and look how well that turned out." He crossed his arms and slumped into a chair, his eyes never leaving the suit of armor.

"I'm sorry," Alphonse said. "I didn't mean to make him upset."

"Don't apologize. That locket messes with whoever wears it." His eyes moved up and down the empty torso, Alphonse was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

"What does it feel like?" he asked suddenly.

"What does what feel like?"

"You know," he motioned to him. "Being like that." His ears went pink. "Never mind. I guess if you weren't really ever a person, you would know."

"I _am_ a person, though. That's what I've been trying to tell you. My brother bound my soul to this suit of armor to keep me alive when I was ten. There…there was an accident. Brother was so brave, though…"

"Is this the same brother who works for the military?"

"Yeah. Edward. He's just…amazing."

Ron snorted. "Can't see how someone who would turn you into _that_ could be so amazing."

"Brother did it to save my life! If he hadn't acted so he quickly, The Gate would've…" his voice faltered. The Gate! Flashes of memories suddenly filled Alphonse's mind. Two large doors. A mocking white figure. An emaciated body. His _body_. He had tried to reach for it and then…

"The doors opened," he recalled in horror, not realizing that he was voicing his thoughts aloud. "The arms…they reached for me and Truth said something about a different world…so I time-traveled." Al wondered if his brother was still alive and if he had been searching for him all this time. He felt guilty, knowing that Ed would put the blame on himself if Al didn't reach the little Xingese girl and the others.

He tried desperately to search his mind to see if Truth had told him anything else helpful, anything that would give him a clue about where he was. But what if Edward had left Amestris? Al let out a little gasp as a terrifying thought occurred to him. What if Amestris didn't exist anymore? It could happen. Countries changed borders all the time. Was that why nobody here had heard of it? Still, something didn't fit. Surely Amestris would at least show up in history books. It was, after all, a major world power during his time.

"Alphonse!" from the nervousness in Ron's voice it sounded like he had been calling his name several times without receiving a response.

"Sorry. What is it?" Al snapped out of his daze. He noticed that Hermione was standing next to him and looking directly at his blood seal. Did she know what it meant? No. That was impossible. How could she?

Ron gave Hermione a little nudge and she cleared her throat. "I just went through my encyclopedia—"

"Which, for some unfathomable reason, she decided to take on our horcrux hunt," Ron interjected, earning a glare.

"I just went through my encyclopedia," Hermione repeated. "And I can't find any mention of Amestris. Can you describe where it is on the map?" She opened the book to a blue and green page that labeled hundreds of countries Alphonse had never heard of.

"This can't be right," the armor breathed. "The continents are all distorted. They're all the right shapes, but they're in the wrong places! Xing should be further north and…and Creta doesn't stick out like that…" There was no way the earth's plates could have shifted so dramatically in eighty-two years. Something was seriously wrong.

_A different world, _Truth had said. Could he have really meant…?

Suddenly it all made sense. The strange place names, the misunderstandings, the lack of alchemy.

He wasn't just in the wrong time. He was in the wrong _world_.

* * *

**krilavti: Those were my thoughts too. I'm glad you like my Harry and Hermione.**

**Sincerely The Sign Painter: Thanks.**

**Breyannia: Yeah, I'm sort of hypocrite when it comes to cliffhangers myself. I hate it when writers use them, but I use them all the time.**

***Ambiguity in D Major: It's at the point when Al set out by himself in the snow storm to warn Mei, Yoki, Marco, and Scar (?) that General Armstrong had ben transferred from the Briggs and Central was sending in their own people. Since Alphonse wouldn't be affected by the cold, he decided to meet them on the other side of the tunnel and warn them.**

**Harrys_woman: You're right. Alphonse really does bring out the best in people. Also, to b fair, it's not exactly difficult to see the good in an adorable kitten-sized panda bear, regardless of whether or not it bites.**

**Suzululu_4_moe: Yep. I was originally planning on having Al phone Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss, but I figured that would be too obscure of a reference. As for your other point, I intend to avoid pairings for the most part in this story because I'm not very good at writing them. I may hint at romantic interest between characters, but I doubt I'll do anything further.**

**The_Awesome_Us: Considering that there are My original plan was to have Piers Polkiss, a member of Dudley's gang, pick up the phone, but I decided that would be a little too obscure for the average fan to pick up on.**

**xo._skyla: Thank you for reviewing. Hopefully their response was satisfactory.**

**urs-v: Thanks. I'm glad you like it.**

**Aijay: I can probably fit a character in the background at some point. It depends on how long I plan on making this story.**

**FullMetal_Panic: Wow. First of all, that you for writing a mega-sized review. I don't think I've ever gotten one so long before. I'm thrilled that you like it and really appreciate how thorough you were in your review. ****I only hope I can keep up my standard if I'm going to be worthy of such praise. **I am especially pleased that you enjoyed the philosophical exchange between Ron and Alphonse because I was a bit worried that readers would lose interest with so much dialogue and so little action. As for the snatchers, they never really played a big part in the books. They're basically rogue wizards during the seventh book who try to make money by kidnapping muggle borns and handing them over to Death Eaters. 


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I promised myself I would get something up before Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year). And now I can say with pride that I am posting this several hours before the holiday. Now I can guiltlessly stuff my face with apples and honey. **

**As always, reviews are welcome and I always respond to them below the chapter. **

**I've also been working on another FMA fanfic that involves Tucker using Ed for his project instead of Nina. I'll probably start posting chapters from it pretty soon. **

* * *

Hermione Granger was stumped. It was not something that she had much experience with, but she decided that it was an extremely unpleasant feeling. Hundreds of questions were running through her head leaving her completely overwhelmed and discombobulated. Who was this Alphonse? What sort of game was he playing? Was he really one of Voldemort's horcruxes? If so, then why did she feel herself wanting to trust him? (Of course, that was leaving out all of the technical questions, like how he functioned without a brain.)

"I know what you're thinking, Hermione. Stop it." Harry was lying on his bunk, emerald eyes hyper-focused on the spider climbing the bedpost. Despite Hermione's desperate urging, he had refused to take off the locket. "He wants you to question things; that's how he plans to mess you up."

"But don't you think there could be some truth to what he's saying? I mean, if he saved Ron's life…" She followed Harry's eyes and saw that the spider had now reached the ceiling.

"That doesn't mean anything. For all we know, he just got rid of the snatchers so that he could care of Ron himself…AHH!" With a sudden jolt, Harry sat upright in the bed, gripping his head and screaming. Hermione watched with concern as her friend's eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets. He rubbed his scar furiously, as if hoping it would erase. The episode lasted for a few seconds and left Harry's face covered in sweat.

"It's getting worse, isn't it? The pain." It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded, trying to resume normal breathing. The anger in his eyes was gone and in its place was something that made Hermione even more nervous: fear. "I just don't think we can afford to take any chances. I won't let anybody else get hurt because of my carelessness. Could Alphonse be just some random muggle under a confusing curse? Definitely! But we can't risk it until we know for sure."

Hermione nodded as bits and pieces of her friend's behavior finally clicked together. Of course! How could she have not seen it before? Harry Potter was drowning in guilt! All of the irritability, the paranoia—it sudden made sense. He blamed himself for Voldemort's return—and by extension, the mauling of Arthur Weasley and deaths of Cedric and Sirius. He thought everything was his fault. That they could have avoided if not for his own foolishness. Oh god, how long had he been living with that feeling? Hermione's stomach instinctively clenched. Why hadn't he told her? She could have helped! No. Of _course _he didn't tell her. Harry never wanted to put excess worry on his friends' shoulders. Maybe that was why he usually insisted on wearing the horcrux. If Alphonse turned out to be dangerous, Harry would never forgive himself.

Still… "We could at least try to test the validity of his claims," she offered, reaching into her handbag. Ah, there it was: her Encyclopedia. Now, where did Alphonse say he was from, again? Amestris? How was it spelled? Hermione tried a few variations and came up with nothing. What was Amestris, anyway? A country? A city? A town? It was so incredibly irritating just _not knowing_.

"Will you be okay by yourself?" she asked. Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. Encyclopedia tucked underneath her arm, Hermione entered the living room. "I have a question for Alphonse."

Ron shrugged. "Um…okay. Hey, Al." The armor did not respond and Ron began to panic. "Al?" Still no response. "Alphonse!"

"Sorry," the metal-tinted voice replied. "What is it?"

Hermione frowned when she spotted an abnormality in the armor: a red circle surrounding an eight-pointed star. Strange. She thought she heard Alphonse let out something akin to a gasp of horror when she eyed it, but it might have been her imagination.

Ron elbowed her lightly in the stomach and Hermione remembered what she had come for. Hermione cleared her throat and spoke. "I just went through my encyclopedia—"

"Which, for some unfathomable reason, she decided to take on our horcrux hunt," Ron interjected.

"I just went through my encyclopedia," Hermione repeated, glaring at the redhead, "and I can't find any mention of Amestris. Can you describe where it is on the map?" She opened the book to a map of the world's countries. Even if he had time traveled, she figured that Alphonse would at least be able to give her a rough location.

"This can't be right," the armor breathed. "The continents are all distorted. They're all the right shapes, but they're in the wrong places! Xing should be further north and…and Creta doesn't stick out like that…"

More odd place names. What was going on?

"Something's not right here," said Al, stating the obvious. "I…I don't even think I'm on he right planet. I know this sounds completely crazy, but maybe I didn't just time travel when I passed through the Gate. Maybe I dimension-hopped too."

_Gate? What Gate?_ wondered Hermione. She filed that mystery away in her brain for later. Right now she needed to focus on the elephant in the room. "Interdimensional travel, is that what you're suggesting?"

"I think so. Insane as it sounds, it seems to make the most sense."

"Alphonse, what is that symbol?"

The armor let out what sounded like a very nervous breath. When he spoke, his voice sounded even higher-pitched than normal—an action that was pretty remarkable given his lack of vocal chords. "Wh-what symbol? Hehehe…." He was a bad liar. Or a very impressive actor. Assuming the former was true gave his earlier comments more credibility, Hermione decided.

"I think she means this one," said Ron, stepping towards the armor and leaning forward.

Hermione could have sworn she saw the torso trembling. "DON'T!" Alphonse shouted. Ron jumped back in alarm. "Please don't touch it. _Please_…it could kill me."

"But what is it?"

"It's my blood seal. My brother was bleeding to death and he saved my life by anchoring my soul to this armor using his own blood. I can't die. Not after all he's given up for me."

Hermione stared. Every time she thought she had figured the horcrux out it surprised her yet again. The emotion in his voice was difficult to feign and she found herself starting to genuinely sympathize with the boy's plight. He really did seem like a kind individual. Hermione briefly wondered if Tom Riddle's diary had come up with a heartwrenching backstory to trick Ginny, but somehow she doubted that this level of emotion could be faked.

"I don't know anything about this world," Alphonse admitted. "But you guys seem like nice people. Even if I am a horcrux, please know that I don't mean any harm to you. I…I just wish there was some way I could prove it."

"Figuring out a way to destroy that damn locket would be mighty helpful," Ron muttered sullenly. Hermione resisted the urge to slap him. If that boy really planned on rejoining the group, he'd need to develop a new attitude.

"You mean the one your friend was wearing before? The one that you said effected his moods?"

Ron nodded. It occurred to Hermione for the first time that Alphonse did not require his helmet to see things. She wondered in the "blood seal" acted as an anchor for his senses. She almost inquired about it, but Alphonse's next question shifted her attention.

"Well that's…wait a minute. Hermione, can you show me the world map again?" She showed him, wondering where this could possibly be going. There were a few moments of silence as the armor studied the topography. "I think I might be able to help you guys, after all."

Ron's eyes widened. He turned to Hermione with a look that said, _Did you just hear that?!_ "You mean it?"

Hermione was more skeptical. Sure, it would be _nice_ if they could trust him and awesome if they could take down some of Voldemort's horcruxes while they were at it, but the logic didn't seem to add up. And what did the map have to do with anything? "How?" she asked.

"Okay, please bear with me. I'm an alchemist. In my world, alchemy works as a science that involves channeling energy from the movement of tectonic plates. In this world, the plates are rearranged differently and that's why when I tried alchemy earlier it didn't work."

Ron looked beyond lost and even Hermione had to admit it didn't make a lot of sense. Maybe she was missing something. Some vital step. It was a feeling she was often experiencing when the armor boy spoke. "Where does the locket fit into this?"

"Alchemy is the science of breaking down matter and reconstructing it with its parts. Back at home, there was this man who stopped after the second step. If the locket needs to be destroyed, all I need to do it study its composition. Unless…wait, please tell me this world has the same elements."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and flipped through her encyclopedia until she found the appropriate page full of colorful boxes. She felt a wave nostalgia looking at it that reminded her of her science classes when she was younger. "Elements like these? I only went to a muggle primary school, so this stuff was only touched on briefly and wizards don't delve too far into the sciences, but…"

"Yes, that's the one!" he sounded absolutely ecstatic. Maybe he really was onto something. "If I know the locket's composition, I can try to do what that man did."

"And you're sure it'll work?"

"Well I've never really tried it personally, but it should. First I'll need to create new transmutation circles because mine don't seem to sync up with this world's tectonic energy."

"For that I'm guessing you'll need arm?"

"Um…if you don't mind."

"Wait," Hermione stepped forward. "We still have no proof that he can be completely trusted."

Ron looked like he was about to start shouting, but Alphonse cut him off. "If you want, you could just return the arms and leave the legs. I won't be able to go far without those. And hopefully, I mean, once I prove that you can trust me, I'll get those back too."

Ron glanced at Hermione, who nodded slowly. "That sounds fair. Is there anything else you need, Alphonse?"

"Something to write with and a few pieces of paper would be great."

"Okay then. Let me just tell Harry first." She turned to head back to the bedroom. Well, this was going to be fun to explain.

_Forget Harry,_ said a little voice in her head. _How are you going to explain to the Order that you willingly accepted help from a horcrux, arguably the darkest form of illegal magic in existence? _

What if Harry was right and Alphonse was just tricking them? She didn't think that was the case, though. In fact, she was sure hat he would never intentionally hurt someone unprovoked.

"_Intentionally" being the key word, _reminded her inner paranoia. _Who knows what he's like if you get him angry._

_But he seems so sweet_, she protested, trying not to dwell on the fact that she was having an argument with herself.

_And he might be the nicest guy in the world. He's still dangerous and unpredictable. It's not responsible to keep him around._

"Hermione," the armor called before she exited the room. She turned. "Thank you. I mean, for everything. I realize that it must be difficult to trust me with what you're going through and I really appreciate everything and plan to do all that I can to help. I mean, it's the least I could do, given what Ron did for me. Equivalent exchange, right?"

Hermione decided right then that, product of dark magic or not, she liked Alphonse Elric.

* * *

**Now for my lovely reviewers: **

**krilavti: I know. Poor Alphonse.**

**Harrys_woman: I thought that for a while when I read the books too. One of the things I realized that I love about Fullmetal Alchemist is that the protagonists are just as lovable and well-developed as the background characters. I tried not make Harry too much of an asshole in this story. I don't want to spoil it, but I think that his later actions redeem him.**

**The_Awesome_Us: First of all, thank you. I glad you like my descriptions. The snatchers did not exclusively go after muggle borns and Ron was looking pretty suspicious in the middle of a forest with a suit of armor. They probably thought he was a runaway and could make some good money by bringing him in. **

**Ai_Jay: Thank you.**

**Kenzie Perth: Yep. At least he's finally gaining Hermione's trust now. **

**Unformal Sorrelle: Thanks. I don't think this chapter was so funny, but I plan on having funnier ones in the future.**

**Guest (1): Thank you.**

**Seven_Blazing_Skies: Good question. At this point in the story, the only horcruxes destroyed are the ring and the diary. They strongly suspect that Voldemort has an object from each of the Hogwarts founders but there's no way to know for sure. At this point, a talking inanimate object seems to be a good lead, even if it does not follow Dumbledore's train of logic. It's possible they think that Dumbledore was wrong about the suspected horcruxes. After all, in their minds Dumbledore made a mistake by trusting Snape. **

**Guest (2): Unfortunately, if I do put Ed in this story it will be at the end. I am writing another story, though, that very heavily focuses on him.**

**Full_Mental_Panic: Your reviews are always a pleasure to read. Thanks for pointing out the typo. It actually was written on purpose. I meant that Hermione said something and as a response Harry grunted but I guess the language was unclear, so I'm glad you let me know. I agree that Aaron Dismuke was a very good voice actor for Alphonse and I definitely prefer him to Maxey Whitehead (although she's pretty fantastic, too!) Philosophical issues will definitely come up again, especially now that you've voiced your love of them. I'm also in the process of writing an FMA story that involves Ed turning into a chimera, which is full of interesting psychological and philosophical concepts. **

**Child of Happiness: Thank you. I'm glad you like it.**

**Sincerely Sign The Painter: Well, it seems that he is. Thank you for reviewing like always.**

**urs-v: First of all, I want to thank you for being honest about what you thought. Constructive criticism helps writers improve their work. I tried to put a lot of detail into what may have been Harry and Hermione's motivation in this chapter. If you can pinpoint anything in particular about the style that irked you, feel free to let me know. Hopefully future chapters will be more to your taste!**

**chica_alter_ego: Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

It was truly an amazing sight to watch Alphonse Elric at work, Ron decided. The way the boy could concentrate for hours on end without once looking up, the delicate style with which he held the tiny pencil in his large, clunky hands, everything held the diligence and efficiency of a machine. Even watching Hermione cramming before exams was nothing compared to this.

After hours of coaxing, Harry had agreed with some reluctance to let Alphonse handle the horcrux on the condition that the group watch him in shifts of two. It bothered Ron that even after everything Al had said that Harry still didn't trust the boy, but he did have to admit that Harry sort of had a point. Alphonse had been unwilling to share personal information with the group ever since mentioning the blood seal. The only new things about him that the group picked up were his inability to eat or sleep in his current form. (Even Harry admitted that had to be hell.) He didn't really seem interested in talking to them either. All he wanted to do was write his theorems. Harry spent the majority of his off-duty time sulking in his room. Ron was really starting to worry about his friend. He had seen Harry in moods before, but they never stretched out for this long.

That had been their routine for nearly a week now. Once Ron was finally well enough to apparate, they changed their camping locations and were now somewhere in Lake County, possible Grizedale Forest.

Ron was on his second shift with Hermione (she was reading that damn fairy tale book _again_ for clues even though Ron kept telling her that she'd never find anything useful) one day when he decided to voice the question that had constantly been irking him. He'd mentioned it once before, but Al hadn't answered.

"What does it feel like?"

For the first time in what had to be nearly five hours, Alphonse paused in his note-taking. The hesitation was brief, however, and the armor resumed working just as quickly as he had stopped, apparently ignoring the question. For a moment, Ron wondered if Al had heard him at all and if perhaps he had just imagined his reaction, but from the new ferocity that seemed to accompany Al's writing, Ron had a feeling that the question had gotten to him. He opened his mouth to inquire again, but the look Hermione shot him a look told the redhead to drop the subject.

Ron tried to imagine what it must have been like for Alphonse. (Contrary to Hermione's belief that he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, Ron did care about others.) It must have been terrifying, he decided. To be trapped in a strange world where your magic doesn't work with your friends and family relying on you back at home…the idea was unfathomable. Ron was sure that Alphonse must have been scared shitless when he saw him and snatchers attacking each other with bright jets of light. Alphonse would have been entitled—justified, even—to be wary of him and keep his distance. But instead the only thing he could care about was Ron's health. The redhead smiled fondly at the odd memory. Then he frowned again. _And how did I repay his kindness when my friends froze his body and interrogated him? I did nothing. No—worse than that. I _helped _them do it. _A knot began to form in his stomach and he wondered yet again why the boy was so willing to help them.

_There was nothing I_ could _have done,_ he reasoned. _The others were already pissed at me for leaving. I took a risk even bringing him to them._ The logic was sound, so then why did he still feel so guilty? It didn't make sense; _none _of it made sense. Alphonse spoke about equivalent exchange, and though Ron did not understand the concept entirely, he was pretty sure that services the boy was providing for them were not equivalent to the way they'd treated him. People were never that nice. People had ulterior motives. Alphonse had none. Why?

Ron groaned, clutching his aching head. There was a reason he preferred not to think too deeply about things. He always got a headache when he did.

Hearing the groan, the armor paused his work. "Are you okay?" asked Alphonse.

"Just dandy. How're those…um…theorems coming?"

"This ring is strange. I can't seem to figure out its composition."

Ron frowned. "I thought it was silver."

Al shook his head and continued to write out equations as he spoke. "There's some in it, but it's alloyed with something that I can't quite place. My brother was always better at transmuting metals…Hermione, can I see the periodic table again, please?" She handed it to him and he nodded triumphantly. "Ah. Well, that explains it."

"What?"

"Apparently there are other differences in this world besides our tectonic plate movements."

"Hang on," said Hermione, looking very confused (and irritated with herself for being confused,) "I thought you said we have the same elements. When I showed the chart to you before it—"

Ron wasn't sure how Alphonse managed it, but the armor somehow looked sheepish. "Yeah...about that…I guess I wasn't looking closely enough. Our elements are the same in name but some of the atomic masses are slightly different, which makes me think that our isotopes are ratios are slightly different. Come to think of it…I don't recognize all of the elements on this table, either. What's 'Lawrencium?'"

"That's one of the newer ones, I think," Hermione said, looking relieved to know something that Alphonse didn't. "I don't remember the exact year it was discovered, but…"

Alphonse was flipping through the pages of the encyclopedia in excitement. "People have _created_ elements in this world?! Hermione, this is amazing. Oh, I wish Brother could be here to see this." His mood seemed grow solemn once again as it often did at the mention of his brother. Ron saw Al's red orbs that were his eyes focused on an unspecific spot in the distance. It was amazing how expressive the boy could be without moving his face.

When he didn't say anything for a few seconds, Hermione cleared her throat. "Alphonse?"

"What? Oh sorry. I was just thinking of all the possibilities. This book doesn't seem to go into a lot of detail. It just mentions the bombarding of atoms. How is that even possible? What did they use?" Ron wasn't even trying to understand the content of the conversation at this point.

"I'm not sure of the exact method," Hermione admitted. "Chemistry has never really been my forte and like I said before, the wizard world doesn't put a lot of emphasis on the sciences. But what you're describing sounds pretty typical of encyclopedias. They serve as an overview but don't usually get too specific. That one is pretty old, too. I think it's from '73. It belonged to my dad. When used to go through it together when I was younger. It was one of the few things I grabbed when I…" her voice cracked and her eyes grew wet and shiny. Ron immediately ran to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling. Oh god, she was trembling. He desperately searched his mind for something to say.

"Is everything okay?" asked Al. His eyes moving from Ron to Hermione nervously. "Did I say something wrong?"

Hermione looked like she was trying very hard not to cry. Ron squeezed her shoulder and Ron accioed a handkerchief for her. Alphonse gave a noticeable jolt at the sight of the object flying across the room, but that didn't concern Ron. The only thing that mattered was the whimpering girl in his arms—wait, when had she gotten there? Not that he was complaining or anything.

Alphonse, apparently sensing the mood, fell silent. Ron would have liked it if he left, but given the fact that the armor boy was currently lacking his legs he figured that he couldn't really be blamed for that.

Ron wasn't sure how long the two of them embraced, but when it was over Hermione's face was completely dry.

"Sorry about that. I hate falling apart in front of people," she said. Ron could tell that she was trying to disguise the shakiness in her voice. "My Mum and Dad are…"

"…Safe," Ron finished, "and that's what matters." She shot him a grateful look.

"I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're going through," said Al, "but I know how difficult it is to lose a parent. And while I don't know your situation, from what I know about you, I am confident that everything will be fine in the long term. And if it helps to cry a bit, go ahead. I certainly won't think any less of you. The important thing is to keep moving in spite of past tragedies."

Hermione smiled. And…sweet merlin...was she _blushing?_ Ron felt his cheeks become very hot. He'd just spent a good ten minutes comforting the girl he'd known since childhood and that legless tin can had just done more for her in a few words than he could do in hours! He knew it made no sense to be angry about such a thing. Hermione was feeling better and that was what mattered, right? So then why did he have the strong urge to knock a bludger into his head? (Not that it would do any real damage to the armor anyway, but _still_!)

"Do you have any books specifically on chemistry, then?" asked Al, returning to their previous topic. "It would help to get the best picture possible. If I'm going to redo my equations, I'd like to at least be accurate this time around."

Ah, at last: an excuse to be pissed. Ron raised his hand. "Wait, wait, _what?_ Hold on a bloody second! Who said anything about redoing equations? You've spent days on these and now you're saying that you have to _redo_ them all?"

Alphonse's shoulders sagged a bit. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking straight before. I should have looked more closely at your periodic table. I feel awful about this."

Hermione glared at Ron. "Don't mind him, Al. It's not your fault. You were doing your best."

Damn it. Now Hermione thought he was an insensitive jerk. Fantastic, just fantastic! He was losing her to someone who didn't even have a body. Was he really that pathetic? Sure, Alphonse was kinder, smarter, and stronger than him, but Hermione had known him for years. She didn't even know what the boy really looked like. It was ridiculous to think that she thought of Al as anything more than a friend.

…Right?

"I don't have any chemistry books with me right now. Maybe we could stop by a town and get some from a muggle bookshop." She bit her lower lip as she thought. Ron always thought she looked kind of cute when she did that.

"Is it out of your way? I don't want to make more trouble for you but if we can stop by a store that would be really helpful."

At last! An opportunity to prove himself. "You're wanted. They probably have pictures of your face everywhere," Ron pointed out. "So is Harry's. You shouldn't go out in public unless absolutely necessary even if it is just to a bookshop." He frowned at Alphonse. "You too, Al. I don't know much about muggle fashion, but I'm pretty sure there would be some confusion if you stepped into a store in that armor."

"So what are you suggesting?"

Ron straightened his posture, trying to look as confident as possible. "I could buy the books for Al. I'm not a fugitive; everyone's convinced I'm at home with splattergroit. 'Moine, you could just lend me some muggle money and I could…"

"Wait," Alphonse sounded incredibly confused. "You guys are fugitives?"

Ron looked to Hermione. "Uh…you wanna take this one?"

* * *

**Ah, the emotional inconsistency of a teenage mind. **

**So Ron's going to try to pass for a muggle buying advanced scientific textbooks? What could possibly go wrong?**

**Okay, I'll admit it: this chapter is sort of a filler. I can't find my copy of Deathly Hallows and I usually use the book for reference so the plot did not progress too much so I used this one for character development instead. Hopefully things will start to pick up soon. **

**A cat called De: Thanks.**

**urs-v: That's fair. One of my weaknesses in writing is making things too dialogue-heavy. That was sort of intentional during that chapter, since it was Alphonse's perspective I couldn't really get into Harry or Hermione's head. I'm glad you liked the last chapter better.**

**chica_alter_ego: And stroke my ego, you did! Thank you for the bucketload of compliments. **

**Mew_Scarlet_Red_fox_8: Thank you. Interactions are always fun to write. Sadly, with my school schedule, I've only been able to update every few weeks.**

**Ai_Jay: Yeah. Al does not have the best luck in this story.**

** : Oh definitely. I agree that Harry's paranoia has a very fair basis. And I'm so glad you like my attempts to treat alchemy as a science. Hopefully they worked in this chapter too. **

**Harrys_woman: Honestly he's annoying me too, but I can't just have him change his mind without a good reason.**

**The_Awesome_Us: Harry has not been having a great year. He feels confused and conflicted because Dumbledore died without really giving him any useful information, he has to fulfill a legendary prophecy, and he's constantly getting migraines because he shares part of his mind with a psychotic murderer. In addition, he's overridden with guilt and is terrified of losing his friends. He'll warm up to Alphonse eventually, he just needs some time. Thank you for reading!**

**Vivianne: Thank you.**

**Keef_a_Mighty: Thanks.**

**Sincerely The Sign Painter: Thanks. I'm glad you like it.**

**Guest: And you would be correct. **

**Full_Mental_Panic: As always, your reviews are a pleasure to read. Good idea to incorporate Ron's strategic mindset. I didn't even think of doing that but I will definitely find a place to fit it in. Ron will continue to be a major player in this story. He is interesting to write when juxtaposed to Hermione because they're such different people.**

**wolf_wind_12345: Here it is.**

**luluhrh: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about the story. **

**Kurama's Foxy Pride: It's true, there are not so many. I'm thrilled that you enjoy this.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, everybody. This chapter is a bit different from the others, but hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. Starting next chapter, the plot will pick up pace significantly.**

* * *

If there was one thing that Phineas Nigellus Black learned in his seventy-eight years of life and his seventy-two years of death, it was that children were good-for-nothing, self-absorbed, greedy little bastards. Gryffindors were the worst sort and nobody ranked higher on Black's insolence list than that Potter boy and his vermin friends. Phineas didn't care what Dumbledore said; Potter was nothing but trouble and just like all members of his house, he held no respect for his elders.

While Potter was the worst of the bunch, his little mudblood friend came as a close second. It wasn't that he looked down upon her because of her heritage. As far as blood policies went, he was among the most liberal in his family. Phineas personally had no problem with the idea of giving muggle-borns a magical education. He was a reasonable man, after all. (Though he certainly saw no reason why individuals could not be proud of their magical blood heritage as well.)

Acceptance of muggle-born students had been one of his highest areas of priority as Headmaster of Hogwarts. At the time it had seemed like a wonderful idea; he had been convinced that the students brought up in muggle homes would be much better grounded and more appreciative of his work than the generation of brats his peers had reared in the magic world. Muggle-borns were the ideal cadets for remodeling wizard society: having been raised in a dark and magicless world, surely _they_ would be able to appreciate the beauty and artistry of witchcraft more than anybody, not to mention that they held no negative biases towards his beloved Slytherin house. Phineas had stepped through those Hogwarts doors in 1914 convinced of the infallibility of his plan. But as per usual, he had put too much faith in the younger generation. The mudbloods, ungrateful lowlifes they were, didn't want to be treated as equals at all; they wanted to be coddled, given special privileges, and praised thoroughly for every spark that flew out of their wands.

Things only got worse from there, of course. Come the next year and students were demanding that the school install a muggle broadcasting system so that they could hear the news of some war going on in their world. Ha, not in _his_ school! Phineas, being the wise man that he was, knew that the alien device ran on ee-lek-TRI-city and would therefore be incompatible with the magic that ran the school and if they thought they could create a better system, then they could waste their time on non-school hours. And how had the children responded when he tried to enlighten them from their ignorant states? They threatened mutiny! It was like nothing Phineas had ever seen before: left and right seventh years began dropping out of Hogwarts to join the _muggle _army (he actually heard that years later one of the little skrewts managed to create a broadcasting device that ran on magic—the smug piece of hippogriff droppings.) And even after the war ended, students continued to leave the school in order to help support their families who were apparently having some financial difficulties—the _nerve_!

And during the years as a hanging portrait, he saw little to no improvement in Hogwarts's youth. Every pureblood walked in convinced that he would be the next Minister of Magic and every muggle-born thinking that he could rewire the school's curriculum to suit his needs. Even his own house had been reduced to nothing but a bunch of self-entitled fools. Nowadays, Phineas mostly slept to pass the time these days. If he ever watched the students for extended periods of time, the situation became too disheartening to endure.

On occasion Phineas would come across a child who seemed different from the rest, more put-together and disciplined. Unfortunately, though, his hopes always proved to be for naught when the student quickly became assimilated with the rest of the narcissists. Sometimes he wondered if it was better that Sirius* never made it to that school in the long run.

That was just what Phineas had been explaining to the portrait of Heliotrope Wilkins when he felt a familiar tug on his conscious followed by an abrupt cutoff of his eyesight.

_Speaking of the devil…_

Hermione Granger, strangely enough, had been one of the anticipated exceptions. She was bright, focused, and the first muggle-born in ages who hadn't complained about the use of feather quills in school—yes, he KNEW it was impractical, but it was_ tradition_, dammit!—but soon enough, she had bought into her house's anti-Slytherin propaganda and soon afterwards gave up her independence and ambition to Potter and his despicable ginger sidekick.

He couldn't see his surroundings, but Phineas knew that he had changed frames. He could he hear the distinct pecking sound of a spotted woodpecker, so he assumed that they were in some wooded area, but that was all he could determine about the location.

"Hello, Professor Black," the Mudblood said with false pleasantness, "how are you doing today?"

"Perfectly well until you came along," he grumbled, not daring to express his relief at the change in routine. Life in the castle grew rather dull after seventy-two years, after all.

"Sorry to bother you, but—"

"Actually, not that sorry at all," another voice cut in. Potter.

_How rude,_ thought Phineas. If they were going to continue treating him like this, then maybe he would just return to castle. It wasn't his job to help them.

"What…what is that?!" a voice squeaked, catching Phineas by surprise. The voice was high-pitched, but undeniably male and there was something else strange about it that the former headmaster could not quite place.

"Right, sorry, Alphonse. Professor Black, this is our friend, Alphonse. Alphonse, this is Professor Black."

Alphonse let out a terrified little squeak. "I…I don't understand. It's a painting! How does it communicate?" He gasped. "Is Professor Black…like _me_?"

The mudblood quickly tried to explain to the boy that he was an enchanted portrait of a deceased person and could communicate as he could during his lifetime. A gross oversimplification, definitely, but at least she knew her stuff.

Phineas didn't have the faintest idea what the boy—Alphonse's—comment supposedly meant, but he knew that all wizard children grew up with enchanted paintings in their homes. If the child didn't recognize him for what he was, then that could only mean one thing…

"You're a muggle?!" he exclaimed, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. _Perhaps I shouldn't jump to conclusions too quickly,_ Phineas thought. Maybe the boy was simply a muggle-born that they had been hiding from the Dark Lord. The action would be foolish, but definitely within the Gryffindor realm of behavior.

After he was given his explanation, Alphonse seemed to calm down quite a bit. "I apologize for my outburst, Professor," he said, sounding genuinely remorseful. "I'm very sorry that you had to go through this, Sir. And to answer your question, yes, I am a muggle."

"He's been cursed," the mudblood tried to explain.

_Cursed?_ Now that was certainly interesting. What kind of dark wizard would curse a muggle and let him live rather than just killing him? Perhaps Potter and the mudblood had saved this Alphonse from near death. _But would they really be idiotic enough to put themselves between a Death Eater and his target? Why am I asking these questions? Of COURSE they would. They're Gryffindors, after all. They're all the same, that lot._

The mudblood and Potter then began their customary prodding into affairs that did not concern them. Specifically, the state of Hogwarts and how all of their delinquent friends were doing. The teens started out civil enough, but they quickly began to lose their patience when Phineas chastised them for disrespecting the school's headmaster. He was about to leave and return to his main frame when a little voice spoke up: Alphonse.

"Um…Professor Black? If it's all right with you, may I ask you a few questions? You don't have to answer them if you don't want to," he added quickly.

"Alphonse, I'm not sure that would be such a good—"

"Please, Hermione. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." Reserved, respectful, but not cowardly. Muggle or not, Phineas was starting to like this boy.

But the mudblood was insistent. "Alphonse, I don't think that Professor Black would want to—"

"Don't speak for me, girl," he sneered. "I'll decide for myself if these questions are worth answering."

"Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate it."

Phineas hurumphed.

He didn't know what to expect from the boy, but he certainly didn't receive it. Alphonse's questions weren't about Hogwarts at all: they were about_ him_. Phineas Nigellus Black. The muggle child, it seemed, had taken a genuine interest in his well being. He inquired about Phineas's daily life, comfort level, and awareness of his surroundings. Phineas forgave the boy's ignorance in the case of the last one and explained that the portraits of Hogwarts Headmasters had a much greater presence and level of sentience than the average magical portrait.

"How much do you remember of your life?"

"Almost all of it. Like I said, I was made by the best enchanters."

"Do you…do you miss anything about it?"

Now the boy was getting a little too personal. Of _course_ he missed things. Phineas could barely remember what it felt like to stroke the fur of his hounds and the taste of brandy was hardly more than a distant memory at this point. He had no doubt that the portraits of his fellow headmasters experienced similar thoughts. But it was never discussed amongst them; by accepting their role as headmaster they had agreed partake in all of its duties including having a part of their souls remain forever in the school after their deaths. Phineas Black was many things, but he was not a man to go back on his word.

Did he wish he could change his decision at times? Definitely. But there was nothing he could do about it now. Besides, this boy didn't need to know any of his personal anguishes. "No. I have no regrets."

"That's good to hear."

Phineas didn't really care that he had broken the International Statute of Secrecy by relaying information—the kid clearly knew about the magic world and whatever he did with that knowledge was his problem.

"So, do you think that if _I _painted a portrait of someone I knew, that I would be able to communicate with them?"

"Hmm…you would need a very skilled witch or wizard to charm the painting, but I don't see why not. It wouldn't be to the extent of having the person around, though. It would just be an imprint."

"I understand."

"It would also have to be a picture of a living person. The dead have already left their imprint on this world."

"Oh," Alphonse sounded disappointed.

Not sure why he was bothering to ask, Phineas said, "Did you have a deceased individual in mind?"

"Yes, I did," the voice sounded so sad and pitiful that even Phineas couldn't help but grow a bit uncomfortable. Normally he couldn't be bothered by the whines of children, but there was something different about this one. It was something in his voice that stood out as oddly familiar. Once again it occurred to Phineas just how young Alphonse sounded.

"But then…then I could still make a painting of a still living person, right?"

There was so much hope in that voice and at the same time it had a forlorn undertone that it tried desperately to mask. Where had he heard a voice like that before?

It occurred to him Alphonse must have been waiting for a response. "Of course, boy, weren't you listening before?"

Alphonse let out a little squeal of joy that normally would have made Phineas roll his eyes in disgust. When the mysterious boy spoke again, he seemed to be talking to himself. "Then…then I could talk to Brother…"

_Brother._ Now Phineas knew where he recognized the voice. Of course. The brats at Hogwarts were too old to sound so innocent. Phineas opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by a high-pitched scream from the mudblood. He covered his ears. "Do you mind? I am _trying _to have a conversation."

"What is that?" asked Alphonse, presumably referring to whatever initiated the girl's reaction.

"A patronus. It's _Ron's_." the girl's voice sounded frantic. Phineas would have been concerned for her safety had he actually given a damn about her. "What could have possibly happened in such a short time? We just sent him out to get books! Harry, start packing. We might need to change locations immediately!"

"Let's hear what it has to say first, Hermione. Maybe…maybe it's not so bad."

"He wouldn't send a patronus if it wasn't an emergency," her voice was shaking now. "Still, I agree; we should listen to what it has to say first."

Apparently, they had forgotten about his presence in all the chaos. Phineas decided to use this mishap to his advantage. Unfortunately, the mudblood's obscuration spell was rather strong as he was still unable to remove the blindfold. If he could just get a glimpse of their location…

"What's a—"

A voice cut Alphonse off. It sounded like the third brat who had been with Potter and the mudblood last time. "At the elephant house…Death Eaters everywhere…get…AHH! BLOODY HELL!" the message abruptly ended.

"Good news, then?" Phineas couldn't help but add snidely.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Huh, magical paintings? Maybe Ed will work his way into this story after all.**

**Don't worry, folks. The next chapter will backtrack a bit so that we can see why Ron sent his patronus. I admit that it's a little far fetched to believe that he knows how to use his to send messages, but it's not completely out of the realm of possibility.**

***The Sirius in question is NOT Harry's Godfather. According to the Black Family Tree, the Sirius we know from the series is really Sirius III. Sirius Black I was Phineas's older brother who died at age eight. Although probably not done intentionally, this might explain some of Phineas's general bitterness.**

**Phineas may or may not be returning in this story depending on the feedback I receive.**

**urs-v: Thanks. Glad to hear it. **

**Ambiguity in D Major: Ha. Well, we'll see how it goes over in the next chapter. There will definitely be miscommunication. **

**Sincerely The Sign Painter: Yep. He's feeling a whirlwind of emotions right now and few of them have logic behind them. It's also known as being a teenager.**

**Ai_Jay: Ron is a surprisingly developed character and I didn't appreciate his role in the books for a long time. I've also always had a soft spot for the comic reliefs. Glad you like the story.**

**Keef_a_Mighty: If all goes well with Al's portrait painting, Ed's presence will enter the story, but only in a limited fashion.**

**Guest: Thank you.**

**Suzululu_4_moe: The point is that the motion was awkward because Ron didn't really know what he was doing. Ron may not be the touchy feely type, but he does care about his friends so a rough attempt to sooth Hermione strikes me as completely believable. **

**Miss_Moe: Thanks.**

**Full_Mental_Panic: The isotopes are not a big difference and it only exists in some elements (major biological elements like carbon are the same.) ****I just think that even if the mass was even a bit off it would mess up the equations...but mostly I needed a reason for Ron to leave the camp so the plot could develop. I do agree that some suspension of disbelief is needed. I'm not sure if he would have to figure out a magical component. I feel like magic is mostly just energy, not matter, so probably not. As for the break with Hermione's parents, it was briefly touched upon in book 7 that she used a complex memory charm to make them change their names, forget her existence, and move to Australia. And while Ron may not always be the most sympathetic person in the world, he does understand the value of family.**

**juniper_lei: Thank you.**

**Harrys_woman: True...but it would definitely get immediate results! **


	8. Chapter 8

Several Hours Earlier…

"Edinburgh? Why Edinburgh?"

Hermione shrugged. "Honestly, I don't really know. It was the first place that came to mind. I used to visit a few times a year to see my granddad." She handed Ron his jumper and watched with a nervous expression on her face as he pulled it over his head. "You sure you're okay with this? You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"'M fine," he grunted. "Alphonse says he needs books, so I'll get him some books. I don't see the problem here."

"There's no problem. I just want you to be careful. If we had more time, I could whip up and polyjuice potion and go with you. What about the currency? Should we go over it one last time?"

Ron waved his hand dismissively. He was growing sick of Hermione's doting. "One hundred pence to a pound and all that. Dad took me to a muggle shop, before. Don't worry about me. I know how it all works." He purposely left out the part where he and Arthur were kicked_ out _of the shop.

"That's right." She took a deep breath and Ron knew that he was in for a lecture. "Now, you have just over a thousand pounds before that credit card runs out—about ten times the amount you'll need, but it's all together so there's not much I can do about that. If you want, you can buy something for your dad from one of the shops. The knapsack I gave you has an undetectable extension charm on it like my beaded bag, but not quite as powerful. And while you're gone, get us some decent food, will you?" She bit her lip. "Is that too much for you? Do you want me to write it down?"

"No. I got it all." He chuckled at her nervous expression, trying not to be offended by how little faith she apparently had in him—or at least his short term memory. "Really, it'll be fine. Don't worry. No death eaters have been spotted in the area and the closest thing they have to a magical community is Sir Tomkins & Co."

Hermione smiled. "Yeah. You're probably right. I don't know what I'm getting all worked up about." She leaned forward and before Ron had a chance to realize what she was doing, wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "Good luck."

Ron pulled away awkwardly. His eyes scanned the room, wanting to look at something—_anything_—other than her. "Um…thanks. Two miles to town, you said?"

"Two miles," Hermione confirmed. She was rubbing her hands together like it was cold. "But don't say 'miles' in front of muggles. Only Americans say miles. If someone catches you saying it by mistake, say you're a university student who just got back from a year abroad in the States and you're still readjusting to the dialect. If you run out of things to say, talk about Angus Buchanan's career in rugby, got it?"

Ron grinned and nodded. She really _had _thought of everything.

Alphonse looked at the two curiously. "What's rugby?" he asked.

"It's a muggle sport," Hermione explained. "Normally wizards don't take much interest in them, but some squib became really famous playing it and now there's a whole organization of wizards who support the game. A squib is a—"

"—Muggle from a magical family who usually have cats. I remember. But I thought wizards don't like them very much because they grow bitter and are ostracized from society." At this point he had returned to his equation writing and Ron had been sure that he was tuning Hermione out until he interrupted.

Ron scratched his head awkwardly. He shouldn't have been surprised that Alphonse had a near perfect memory. Damn. He was really going to have to watch what he said from now on.

Despite knowing he had pretty much lost, Ron felt the need to defend his position. "Well, yeah, that's because they're usually terrible. Buchanan was different thought because…because he was, like, a _really_ good rugby player."

"I don't see the correlation."

"Stop bothering Alphonse," Hermione suggested, earning an incredulous look from her friend.

"I wasn't 'bothering' him! We were having a _conversation_. Blimey!"

Hermione ignored him. "Is there anything else you'll be needing, Al?"

Alphonse didn't look up from his intricate circle and Hermione had to call is name louder and repeat the question. "Um…some more paper and pens would be nice—preferably colorful ones. They're good for organizing work."

"Fine. You got that, Ron?"

"Yeah, yeah."

_How did I get myself into this?_ Ron wondered miserably.

"Can Ah help ye?"

Ron then realized that he had been staring blankly at the woman at the bookshop. "You work here, right?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Nae. Aam jist sittin' at th' front desk fur fin."

"…Huh?"

"Dae ye need somethin' ur nae coz if ye huvnae noticed, there's a line behin' ye." She frowned when he didn't respond. "Come oan, lad, speak. What's th' matter? Ye deaf ur somethin'?"

"What?"

"Ah dornt hae time fur thes. Either say whit yoo're lookin' fur ur gonnae-no botherin' me."

Ron shook his head. Of course it was just his luck to get stuck with the world's most incoherent Scottish lady. "I don't understand a word you are saying. I…I just came here to get some books on chemistry and tectonic plate movement."

"Weel, wa dinae ye say sae earlier? Robert will shaw ye uir science collection. Rabbie, gie yer crease ower haur!"

A very tired-looking employee made his way over to the desk. "Yes, Matilda?"

"Thes loon is lookin' fur books oan chemistry an' seismic activity. Help heem out, will ye?" Ron was pretty sure that he saw fleck of Matilda's spit land on Robert's face.

"But…I'm off fer lunch," the man whined in a much more understandable voice.

"Nae anymair, yoo're nae."

Robert sighed. "Fine. Come on, lad. Let's find what yer lookin' fer."

Ron shot the man an apologetic smile. Anyone who had to put up with that lady must have been pretty desperate for a job. "Sorry. I'd ask her to help me instead, but I can't understand what she was saying."

"Nobody can," Robert replied. "Chemistry, huh? Is it yer major in uni or somethin'?"

_Uni? What the hell is uni? Okay. Calm down, Ron. Act casual._ Ron shoved his hands into the pockets of his jumper—unknowingly pulling the most overdone "act casual" cliché in the book. "Uh…no. I'm just getting some things for a friend. The bloke's into the really advanced stuff. He's working on his own theorems and crap." Robert grunted, indicating that the redhead should follow him. "So…" Ron drawled, not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. "How about those rugby players?

"How about ye stop talkin'?"

Ron pouted but complied as he was taken to the back of the shop where all the heavy volumes seemed to be kept. He approached the section under "chemistry" and groaned. How would he know which books to get? He wished Alphonse could have been more specific—although, judging from what the armor boy had requested, it sounded like he wasn't quite sure what he wanted either. _Fantastic. Just fantastic. _He opted to just grab the books that looked the most complicated.

Feeling satisfied with his decision, Ron approached the front desk with a pile of volumes that stacked over his head. The lady then proceeded to yell something that Ron did not understand but after a combination of expressions and frantic gestures, he was able to pay for the books and leave the shop, at this point convinced that Matilda purposely made herself impossible to understand for the sake of annoying tourists.

Ron waited until he was sure that nobody was looking before he shoved the books into his knapsack. Instantly, his burden disappeared and the knapsack was no worse for wear. _Genius. That girl is a bloody genius. _

"How did you do that?"

Ron jumped and spun around, coming face to face with a girl who couldn't have been older than five. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a plait and her index finger was pointing at him accusingly.

_Relax. She's just a kid. Maybe you can convince her that she didn't see anything._ Ron crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the building to show how cool he was. "How did I do what, exactly?"

The girl furrowed her brow, evidently trying to describe what she had seen in her limited five-year-old vocabulary. "The books…you put them in your bag. But your bag is small…and your books are big. _Really_ big." She spread her arms wide to indicate just how big. "Bigger than the knapsack."

Ron just shrugged. "The bag is bigger than it looks."

"Oh." The girl put her finger in her mouth and shifted her gaze to the ground.

"Um…where are your mum and dad?"

Without warning, the child burst into a fit of hysterical tears. "I…I don't KNOW!" she wailed. "I…I saw a puppy and I went to go pet it and when I came back, Mummy was gone!"

_ Oh great. Now people are staring. Damn it. Why do lost muggle children keep find you? _"Taking down Voldemort will be a walk in the park after all this. At least his intentions are clear," he muttered under his breath. Turning to the girl he said, "We'll find her, don't worry. I'm Ron Weasley. What's your name?"

The girl looked up from the ground. "Jessica. Mummy says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Well, you had no problem talking to me when it was about the amount of room in my bag. Never mind. Let's go."

She took his hand. "Where are we going?"

"To look for your mum, of course. Do you come here often? Where does she usually go?"

"Dunno."

_Wow. Helpful. _"We'll just ask around, then." Honestly, Ron didn't mind it that much. It felt good to finally get out of that stupid tent and be near civilization. Plus, it was nice to finally be looked at as the "adult" in a situation.

Finding the girl's mother wasn't too hard in the end. It took about forty minutes of wandering and asking strangers, but the pair eventually tracked her down to a little café near George IV Bridge with a rather strange name.

"'The Elephant House,'" Ron read out loud from the sign on the red building.

Jessica gave him a toothy grin. "Yep. But Mummy says there aren't actually any elephants here." Her eyes widened and she pointed to a blond woman sitting in the café. "There she is! MUMMY!" arm spread out wide, she tackled the woman in an enthusiastic hug. When was the last time he hugged his mother? Ron wondered. And more importantly, would he ever get another chance?

"Jessica, thank god! I was so worried. Don't you ever do that again, do you hear?" the voice was harsh, but the hug was returned.

Ron was about to walk away a leave the two to their intimate moment when he felt a tug on his sleeve and found Jessica beaming at him. "This is him, Mummy! This is Ron Wesley, the boy who found you."

"It's Weasley," he corrected automatically. "And it was no problem, really."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Weasley," said Jessica's mother. "I honestly can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"It was nothing," he insisted, turning once again to leave.

Then he heard a shriek. A terrible, ear-piercing sound from his right as figures in black cloaks popped up all around: Death Eaters. The screaming continued, this time at a higher frequency.

Before Ron even had a chance to reach for his wand, something hit him with the force of a blow to the testicles. He crumpled to the ground and black spots danced in front of his eyes.

People were screaming all around him. Ron attempted to sit up and was promptly met with a sharp stabbing of pain in his temple. He tried to grit his teeth and bear it, but the pain only grew worse.

Something dropped onto the ground next to him. A dead muggle, Ron's mind determined, still in too much shock to be properly horrified. How could this have happened? Then it hit him: the taboo. He had said Voldemort's name earlier. If the rumors were true, that meant the Death Eaters were able to trace the utterance back to its source. He had completely forgotten!

Out of the corner of his eye Ron made out Jessica and her mother duck behind an overturned table in an attempt to dodge the seemingly endless spew of curses. This was all his fault. And now because of him all of these people would die.

_No._ No he wasn't going to let that happen. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, the fiery redhead got to his feet and stumbled over to the nearest Death Eater, knocking him out with a well-placed hex. Lost in the bliss of victory, he failed to notice another Death Eater creep up behind him.

_ "Expulso!"_

Ron didn't even have time to process the fact that he was hit until he found himself flying towards the café wall at terrifying speed. He was pretty sure that he blacked out for at least a couple of minutes because when he opened his eyes the place was practically in ruins. Ron counted at least four bodies on the ground but his vision was too blurry to make out any features. Were the girl and her mother safe? Ron felt a lump in his throat.

He tried—foolishly—to get to his feet but the wave of vertigo and blast of white-hot pain made it clear that was not going to happen. At lest nobody was targeting him currently. Maybe the Death Eaters had left him for dead.

_I have to do something_, he realized. What was it his dad had shown him that summer? The way the Order communicated long distances. It was the patronus! Yes, the patronus!

…But how the hell was he supposed to conjure a patronus in this mess?

_Focus, Ronald, focus. _Ron thought about Harry and Hermione and how they were going to destroy all the horcruxes and kick the Death Eaters' arses. He pictured the sweet and trusting Alphonse, who had already entrusted so much in them.

_"Expecto patronum." _

Ron swore quietly when all he managed to conjure up was a bit of silvery mist. Luckily none of the Death Eaters seemed to notice.

He thought back earlier to his third year when he was given a pet owl from a runaway convict. His second year when he and Harry saved his little sister's life by accessing an ancient chamber in the school. Then he pictured simpler memories: laughing with his friends. Grinning in delight at the majesty of his brothers' joke shop.

He thought back to the first train ride back in '91 when he first met The Boy Who Lived and they shared a pack of sweets. And then later, when Harry had turned down Malfoy's friendship for insulting him. As one of the youngest in his family, Ron had often grown up taking the blame. This had been the first time anyone had ever done something like that for him.

"Travers, look at that one. He's moving!"

"Fool! You're not supposed to call me by name."

"Oh, who cares? It's not like anyone here will make it out alive to spread the word." The few muggles remaining whimpered in fear.

Ron was vaguely aware of the masked men closing in on him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The redhead was grinning like a madman and he only laughed as he narrowly dodged a slew of curses.

_"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

A Jack Russell Terrier sprang out of his wand and the front Death Eater took a step back in surprise.

The product was beautiful, but it had taken a lot out of him. Ron could do nothing as a curse hit him and his knees buckled, causing him to fall to the ground.

So that was it. It was all in vain. He was going to d—what in Merlin's pants was that lady doing?!

It was Jessica's mother. Though her face was pale and dripping with sweat, she was dragging Ron out the back of the café as her daughter clung tightly to her hand. Amazingly, the patronus—though considerably dimmed—was trotting alongside them.

They exited in an alley and after a few seconds, Ron was able to sit up groggily. He searched his mind but fortunately was able to recall the spell for message sending.

"What's…what's goin' on? Mummy, why are those people—"

"Shh. Be quiet now, Jessica, love. Mummy's got you."

Ron turned to them. "The two of you really should get out of here. It's not safe."

The woman bit her lip. "But the café…there were other people inside…"

Oh shit, she was right!

"I'll deal with them. Right now, I'm going to need the two of you to stand still." He pulled out his wand. Incredibly—most likely too shocked to really think about what they were doing—they listened. "This won't hurt…"

The mother, apparently gathering her senses and recognizing Ron's wand as the same weapon that killed her friends and tortured her daughter, cried out, "Wait, what are you doing?"

"I can't let you remember what happened in there. Like I said, it won't hurt or anything, I'm just going to…"

The memory of Alphonse's horror chose that moment to resurface. _"_Only_ erase my memories? What do you mean 'only'? That's not the kind of thing you say only about!"_

_No!_ Ron screamed mentally_. I can't dwell on this now. Besides…it's for their own good. They're in danger._

_ "Don't they have a right to know if they're in danger?"_

Ron sighed and lowered his wand. He turned to Jessica. "Do you want to see something cool?" The little girl nodded and Ron turned to the patronus.

He peered through the shop's window so that he could get an accurate picture of what was going on. Unfortunately, Travers chose that moment to glance at the window. Ron ducked away and began talking frantically to his patronus. "At the elephant house…Death Eaters everywhere…get…AHH! BLOODY HELL!" The back door burst open, along with half a dozen Death Eaters.

He turned to Jessica and her mother. "I suggest you run."

Not wasting a second, Joanne Rowling grabbed her daughter and ran like hell.

* * *

**There will be more Alphonse in the next chapter, I promise. **

**The_Awesome_Us: I would imagine that in order to draw transmutation circles, he would have to have a steady hand.**

**urs-v: Awesome! Glad you like it. **

**Kurama's Foxy Rose: Okay. I'll try to work him in. I agree, he's pretty cool.**

**Kenzie Perth: Yeah. I had so much fun writing his character that I may actually do a separate story that just focuses on him being headmaster throughout different major events in muggle history.**

**chica_alter_ego: It will definitely be interesting, I can tell you that. **

**Starlit Skyline: Thank you so much. I'm thrilled that so many people liked my portrayal of him. **

**Rotom_knight: I will do what I can to include more of him in future. I just don't want it to seem forced.**

**Guest: He does have sass.**

**Literature Work: Terrible puns for the win!**

**Ai_Jay: Thank you.**

**Harrys_woman: I know. He's going to have to rethink his whole philosophy about disrespectful youth.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A bit of a short chapter, but a crucial one.**

* * *

Harry Potter's worst fear had come true. They had decided to work with Alphonse, and now one of his best friends was in danger. He should have never let Ron go out to buy those stupid books. This mess was all his fault and he needed to go out and correct it.

"No." Hermione's tone was flat and left no room for argument.

Harry didn't care. "What do you mean 'no?'"

"I mean that you're not going out to get him. Your life is too valuable to risk." He snorted and waved a dismissively hand. "No, listen to me," she continued, "right now you are impulsive and out of practice. You've been in bed with a fever all week, you're not thinking straight—"

"_You're_ the one who's not thinking straight!" Harry growled, the sudden volume in his voice catching even Alphonse by surprise (why the hell were they allowing the horcrux in the room with them, anyway?) "Ron's in danger, Hermione. And every second we waste arguing, he could be dying. Who cares if I'm a little sick?"

"And do you think that I'm any less capable of helping him than you are?"

"No! What I'm saying is that I have a responsibility to go after him. This is _my _burden to carry, Hermione. Not yours." What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she see the sense in what he was saying? They didn't have time for this, dammit!

Hermione stomped her foot on the ground and fixed her eyes on Harry with a look of poison. "Not everything is about you. It's_ my _burden too. Do you think I didn't know what I signed up for this year? Are you under the impression that I don't realize this is life-threatening? I have the same responsibility as you. The only difference is that I don't have a prophe—"

"I WON'T LET ANYONE ELSE DIE BECAUSE OF ME!" The words came out uncharacteristically shrill and Harry grimaced when he caught sight of his friend's terrified expression. He inhaled sharply. "Look," he said with as much calmness as he could muster at that moment, "I need you to guard the tent. If Ron and I don't return by nightfall, you know what to do."

The suit of armor tentatively raised a hand. "I think that if anyone should go out there, it should be me. It's my fault he's in danger, anyway. And besides, your sticks don't affect me unless they hit my bloodseal."

"So you think that we're suddenly go to trust you?"

"No. I'm asking you to take a small risk that will almost certainly play out in your favor…uh, Hermione? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Harry turned around. The bookworm was looking over Alfonse with a scrutinizing expression on her face and a sly gleam in her eyes that was more than a little unsettling.

"I think I have an idea."

* * *

"This is…really weird."

"I'm not enjoying this anymore than you are," Harry grunted from inside of the armor. " I mean, this whole situation seems oddly, I dunno…_sexual_."

A shudder of horror went through the suit. Alphonse hadn't thought of it like that when Martel was inside of him, but now that Harry brought it up…well, it _was _a person wearing another person. "Ugh. Stop." If he were human, Alphonse would've definitely gagged. The echoing sounds of Harry's amused laughter only made the situation worse.

"I'm only joking," the British boy assured him.

"I…I know that! It's just not funny. It's…ugh…so….gross! Why would you even bring that up?" Alphonse suspected his feelings of repulsion had to do with the fact that he hadn't exactly experienced puberty. His voice was still high-pitched and whatever form of him living at the Gate certainly wasn't experiencing normal hormonal development. Sure, he was mature beyond his fourteen years, spent most of his time around adults, and knew the human body inside and out. But none of that changed the fact that sex was icky.

Also, having a person inside of his just felt plain wrong. He couldn't exactly _feel_ Harry per se, the closest comparison was like an itch he couldn't get rid of. But it was the psychological implications of someone so close to his bloodseal that bothered him more—although the seventeen-year-old's joke about their apparent intimacy definitely hadn't made Alphonse feel any better about the situation. He felt awkward, vulnerable, and incredibly creeped-out. Although, admittedly, it was nice to finally have his legs back.

Harry knocked on him from the inside of his chest plate to get his attention. Al really wished he'd stop doing that. "Hey, hurry up. Ron could be dying!" Did Harry really think he didn't know that? Al, however, complied and increased his speed. "Ow!" Harry complained as his head smashed against the metal interior. "Not_ that _fast!"

"No, you were right. We can't keep up this speed if we want to have a realistic chance of getting to Ron. Just brace yourself."

Harry groaned, but didn't argue. They continued to run for several more minutes. "Why did I agree to this again?"

"Because we both care about Ron's safety and you going inside of me was the most practical choice for everyone. This way we can rescue Ron, you don't get hit by any spells, and I can finally prove to you that I'm trustworthy." _Also, being within reach of my bloodseal was the only way you'd ever let me out of the tent._

"Oh yeah."

Navigating through the city was much more difficult than Al had originally assumed. Those super fast cars seemed to be all over the place and they would come speeding out of absolutely nowhere! Al counted four times so far that he had nearly been hit. Even the busiest intersection in Central couldn't compare to this. And it wasn't just cars—bicycles, motorcycles, and scooters, not mention strange-looking boards with wheels—everything in Edinburgh seemed positively determined to slow down his progress. It was all so futuristic and alien to the armored teen.

Alphonse tried to ignore the strange looks he kept getting from random pedestrians. The sight must have looked ridiculous, after all: a seven-foot-tall tall man in a suit of antique armor arguing with himself in a childish voice. Although to be fair, some of the people were doing things that made Alphonse want to stop and gape at. Despite the mild weather, children his own age passed by wearing shiny earmuffs. Adults shouted into what appeared to be some sort of telephone without a chord. And all around him Al heard words that sounded like nonsense: Television, Pokémon, Furby, Tamagotchi, McDonalds, _The Simpsons_, email, pager, Nintendo, MP3s, _Nirvana_, Barbie, Doritos, and the World Wide Web. It was almost like he was in a whole different…oh wait.

He stopped short when a loud wailing sound filled the air. "What's that?"

"Those are sirens. I bet they're the muggle authorities trying to crack down on the Death Eaters. Can you follow them?"

"Yeah. Hold on."

* * *

In retrospect, running _towards_ the people trying to kill him while already on the verge of passing out from exhaustion was not one of Ron Weasley's best plans. But it was too late to turn back now. He had promised Jessica's mother that he would save the people back in the café.

"Honestly, Ronald, of all the idiotic ideas you've ever had," he mumbled to himself, "this one…exceeds at least three!" As he chuckled quietly to himself at his bitter attempt at humor, Ron noticed how hollow and hoarse his voice sounded and it occurred to him with disturbing clarity that he might actually die. Sure, this wouldn't be the first time he'd experienced such a feeling—on his seventeenth birthday Ron had been positive he was a goner, or at least in his few hazy memories of the actual poisoning. Looking back further, Ron recalled numerous events—some more clearly than others—where his immediate life had been in danger. Images of Devil's Snare, brains wrapping around his arms, and Sirius Black coming at him with a knife flashed through his mind. Hell, he'd looked death right in the face during that freakish chess game in his first year without a second thought. _But those times were different,_ he realized. _This time you're alone._

He could turn back now if he wanted. He could look the other way and run for his life. That would be the smart way of action. The logical one. But now wasn't the time for logical decisions. If he didn't act now these people would _die. _

_People who wouldn't even_ be _in danger in the first place if it wasn't for me, _Ron realized with no small amount of guilt. It was his right—no, his _responsibility_—to protect them. With that thought in mind, he charged into the café, wand at the ready and prepared to give those damn Death Eaters everything he had

…And then a beam of pink light hit him straight in the chest.

Ron hadn't heard the incantation and he couldn't think of a single spell that gave off a pink glow, but anything that came from a Death Eater couldn't be good. Ron expected to die, lose consciousness, or at least feel excruciating pain. Instead, he felt, well, nothing…at least right away. After a few seconds, there was a slight tugging feeling in his abdomen, but no pain. Ron didn't wait to find out if there would be, he aimed his wand at the closest skull mask to him. The Gryffindor didn't bother to wonder why the man, who clearly saw him running, took no noticeable action to stop his approach.

"PETRIFICU—ARRGHH!" Ron fell over as the pain suddenly quadrupled in intensity. The agony was swiftly followed by the most powerful wave of nausea the redhead had ever experienced in his life. For a few seconds Ron genuinely feared that he was in danger of throwing up his internal organs if dared to so much as open his mouth. The feeling only lasted a short while, and with a bit of teeth gritting, he managed to return to his feet, though the urge to vomit still lingered. What was going on? What kind of curse was this?

With his knees still wobbling, Ron was barely able to let out a _confringo_ to avoid being pounced on by an unusually fat Death Eater.

Ron side-stepped a _crusio_, but his counter-curse missed its target by mere inches. His head was spinning. He couldn't keep this charade up much longer. He had to get the muggles out of here.

"Look out!" a woman shouted, giving Ron just enough time to jump out of the way of a giant green flash. His stomach lurched; that was close. Far too close.

"Hey, lady!" he said to the woman. "Get out of here. Drag whoever you can with you."

The woman hesitated and Ron followed her eyes across the room to a stiff body lying on the floor. Oh shit.

"CHRISTOPHER!" she screamed, her arm reaching out to the dead man. Ron froze. What could he do? He looked around. Out of the six original attackers, there were still three that remained fully mobile and one who was hobbling around. Roughly fifteen muggles remained in the café, most of those that remained conscious were either hiding in the back or withering in agony on the floor. Why weren't they escaping? Then he realized with a sinking feeling that the Death Eaters were blocking the doors. Those bastards had even reinforced the windows so that nobody could smash through them! Ron could hear muggle sirens in the distance, but he doubted they could reach the place in time, let alone do anything once they actually got there.

He was about to tell the woman once again to move, when a massive explosion shook the building and a wall nearly collapsed on him. What the…?

A giant suit of armor stepped into the café, fixing its beady red eyes on Ron.

"Did you remember to get my books?"

* * *

**Things to look forward to: The aftereffects of Ron's curse, pros and cons of magical portraits, and at least a moderate amount of Phineas sass. **

**I don't have much confidence in writing actions scenes. If any of you guys have ideas or suggestions, please let me know.**

**To my reviewers: **

**Kale Of The Dragons: Haha, yeah. It wasn't exactly subtle.**

**urs-v: Interestingly enough, Angus Buchanan exists as both in the Harry Potter universe and as a real figure in our world. I don't know if he had a cat, but Rowling says that he was a squib discarded by his family who later went on to become one of Scotland's most famous rugby players, later publishing _My Life as a Squib_ in the wizarding world. Look up his backstory if you're interested, I find the whole thing to be really cool.**

**This_Cat_What_Did_That: Thank you :)**

**Fandom Jumping Expert: Yep.**

**Leo_Inuyuka: Hopefully in a good way?**

**Kenzie Perth: Thanks. I'm not sure when I'll post the Phineas story, but it probably won't be for a while because I have a lot of other stuff I want to get done. Right now I'm working on this fix and one (as of yet) unpublished Fullmetal Alchemist story that I am kind of obsessed with.**

**Guest: Haha, so true.**

**Miss_Moe: I'm finding him to be a unique character to write-especially when juxtaposed to Alphonse. I'm glad that you like it so much and thank you for the kind review.**

**Legendarily Quiet: I have faith that they'll be okay. Especially now that Alphonse is with them.**

**The_Awesome_Us: I WANT ALPHONSE JUICE!**

**Keef_a_Mighty: Thanks. I figured that would get a chuckle out of people.**

**Ai_Jay: Don't worry about the too lazy to log in part. I get that all the time. There was nothing particularly significant with Travers's name, he's just one of the Death Eaters. **

**Sky Veneziano: Thank you.**

**calcu22: Thanks.**

**eha1234: Thanks.**

**Guest: Thank you and yes it was.**

**Full_Mental_Panic: Phineas's page on Harry Potter wiki links to the Black family tree. The tree contains information that Phineas lived from 1847-1925 and that he had a brother named Sirius (a name that would later show up trice more in his family) who died in 1853. It is also known that Phineas Black was headmaster of Hogwarts for some period of time. So I pretty much used that cannon information and what I knew about his personality and had fun. As for the Ed portrait, it is _intended_ to be disturbing. I have several plans for portrait Ed, some of which are the ones you discussed, and I'm not sure which one I'm going with yet. And I'm really glad you liked Ron's moral dilemma with erasing the minds of muggles. Now that Alphonse has pointed it out, this will not be the only time the idea haunts him.**

**Guest: Ed is coming relatively soon.**

**Kyuubi_No_Puma: Yeah.**


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